


Light of the Dragonfires

by tall_lsbn



Series: Fugio week 2020 [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Avpol Raising Giorno Agenda, Canon-Typical Violence, For those of you who aren't familiar with elder scrolls that's the best way to put it, Fugio Week 2020, Fugo's backstory, M/M, POV Pannacotta Fugo, Rated for Violence and Cursing, Slow Burn, Violence, not explicit, references to CSA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_lsbn/pseuds/tall_lsbn
Summary: Fugo escapes from prison with help from Emperor Joestar and it catapults him into a destiny he never asked for. He's not the only one, because apparently part of his destiny is dragging a priest named Giorno along. Together they need to figure out how to save Tamriel.formerly called The Dragon Waits.
Relationships: Mohammed Abdul | Muhammad Avdol/Jean Pierre Polnareff, Pannacotta Fugo/Giorno Giovanna
Series: Fugio week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593607
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fugio Week Day 2  
> Crossover

“Hey I remember you. That snobby little Breton from the guild.”

“That was a significant chunk of us to be fair.” Fugo replied. He peered into the cell across from him. The elf was slouched against the walls, with his long hair hanging over his face. It wasn’t until he looked up, and Fugo saw the dark circles that he recognized him. 

“Your pale skin and sour face give you away.” Volpe said. “Most promising prodigy they’ve seen in years, my ass. Go ahead, try to use your esteemed spells in here. Or were they just cheap parlor tricks this entire time? Not so powerful in here, are you? You brat.”

“Bold words coming from the person who only spent his time at the Arcane University making skooma.” he snapped back. Volpe was always a bitter bastard. What luck that his new cell neighbor was him. 

“You’re going to die in here.” he sneered. 

“Not dead yet.” 

The sound of heavy clank of the door into the dungeon shut them both up. It seemed like they were both straining to hear the soft voices drifting down the stairs. A somber male voice was the first thing they heard.

“My family, they’re all dead aren’t they?” 

“We don’t know that sire! We haven’t heard any word.” Another voice rushed to seemingly reassure him. 

“No, they’re dead. I know it.” 

“Look, my job right now is to get you to safety. We will find out what happened to them once we get you to a secure location.”

The first voice made a small humming sound. “I know this place. The prison?”

“Yes, your majesty. Beneath the Legion Compound. We're headed for a secret passage known only to the Blades. No one can follow us through here."

Your majesty? That set off every warning bell in Fugo’s head. He quickly scrambled away from his cell door and into the small nook where his bed was that’d hide him from anyone looking into the cell. He had no idea why they were down here, but with any luck he wouldn’t find out. Maybe he could pretend to sleep.

“What’s a prisoner doing in here?” the voice from before barked. “This cell is supposed to be off-limits!”

Fuck, they must have detect life spells activated. Or they just heard him. Sneaking around was never his strong point.

“Must be a mix up with the watch guards.” A new voice chimed in a bit nervously. 

“Well, no matter. Prisoner! By the window, slowly move to the corner where we can see you.”

He carefully stepped out of his hiding place, and shuffled to where he was directed without ever taking his eyes off the door. Just on the other side stood three heavily armored guards carrying huge swords. All glaring at him with an intensity that Volpe could only dream of. Between them, he could just barely make out a tuft of blue-black hair and glances of luxurious robe. 

They start to file in one by one. The first immediately stepped off to the side, and put a hand on his sword hilt. To distract himself from the fact that it seemed all of these people were prepared to cut him in half at a moments notice, Fugo stared at his face. Most of it was obscured by his helmet, but he could just barely make out some sort of scar, brown eyes, and a few strands of blonde hair. 

The somber voice cut through the tense silence. "You ... I've seen you…” The robed figure stepped forward past his guard dogs. Fugo had to resist the urge to flinch, this man was a giant. He looked up to meet blue eyes that held a surprising amount of kindness in them. A gentle giant it seemed. 

“Let me see your face... You are the one from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

“I’m sorry? Uh can I ask what’s going on?” Fugo blurted out. 

"Assassins attacked my family, and I'm next. My Blades-” he gestured warmly to the terrifying men next to him.” -are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

“Oh.” he said weakly. “Why am I here then?”

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet.”

He resisted the urge to snort. “Yeah I’m sure the gods would have put me in here to meet the nobility instead of my very real crime.” 

“It does not matter. This is not what you will be remembered for."

He balled up his fists. “What are you talking about?”

The man straightened. "I am your emperor, Jonathan Joestar. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way." 

He acted like that explained everything.

“Serve her? Have you noticed where I am? I’m in prison. I can’t do shit here.” 

"No.” he agreed. “But you will not always be here. When the gods will it, you will be free to serve her.” 

“Free to serve? That’s rich-.” he started. 

Though before he fully could launch into a tirade the captain interrupted. “Sire we must keep moving. We won’t be able to close this once it’s been opened. There's no way to open it from the other side.”

“Looks like it’s your lucky day prisoner, just stay out of our way.” 

The emperor gave him a cryptic smile. “Looks like the gods have spoken.” 

The captain fiddled with the wall next to his bed. A moment passed and then a loud rumbling was heard as the wall started to slowly swing inward. On the other side was a rough tunnel that looked as if it was dug out using shovels. The royal group started immediately down the steep passage. Fugo on the other hand, couldn’t help but pause to make a rude gesture at Volpe (who had been intently listening the entire time) before following them. 

The passage deposited them into some remarkably well preserved ruins. The light from the torches bounced off the well worn stone. Each flicker revealed a new crevice or strange alcove, only to once again be shrouded in darkness a second later. As curious as this place seemed, the lingering sense of unease told him to stick with the highly trained warriors. 

He tried to lurk at the back of the group, but each time he started to lag behind one of the guards would prod him along. As they made their way through the ancient halls the only sounds that cut through the tense silence were the echoing of footsteps and the occasional cursing as the captain cut through large swaths of cobwebs. Everyone tensed at any other little sounds that managed to reach them, skittering skeevers or the pitter-patter of small bits of rubble being disturbed after a millena. Everyone but the Emperor. Despite the situation spelling out his imminent doom, he remained the image of composed leader.

Fugp let himself stare at him. He already knew a great deal about the man. His parents being the people they were made sure that he had a through education of not only magic but the who’s who of the empire. Lessons and various facts about Emperor Jonathan’s various political decisions over the years rattled in his head. He took over the empire at the young age of twenty-two after his father passed away and had been ruling for the past thirty years. He had two sons, George who was next in line for the throne and Joseph who was set to become a general. Though from the sounds of it they were both dead now. None of this helped him figure out the man in front of him. 

The emperor must have felt his gaze, because he turned back towards Fugo and gave him a reassuring smile. “I know I said this was the gods’ plan, but I’m still sorry you’re getting caught up in this.”

Fugo wasn’t sure how to respond so he just slumped his shoulders . 

This behavior seemed to be familiar to him because he merely chuckled and fixed his gaze on the path ahead of him once more.

Just in time too, because there was a flash of light in the far corner of the room, and a shout of “For Lord Dagon!” 

Assassins started to emerge from the shadows, all echoing “For Lord Dagon!” and then they attacked.

The Blades all were skilled warriors in their own right, but the sheer numbers of the assassins began to overwhelm them. 

Fugo didn’t particularly like any of them, but he couldn’t just sit there and let them die. If nothing else, if they were dead, so was he. 

He frantically cast a few spells to drain the strength of the closest targets. Even if they weren’t effective, if the assassins had even a momentary opening, that’s all they would need. 

One of the Blades saw the flash of the spell, and turned ready to strike him down. Then he watched it hit an assassin square in the chest which caused them to lower their weapon, allowing the emperor to strike them down. He decided it wasn’t worth scolding him for it and allowed him to continue.

Once the battle concluded, all the remaining warriors turned to glare at him. Apparently despite saving their lives, they didn’t appreciate his intervention. Fugo scowled. Ungrateful pricks. 

With the aid of the draining spells, the tide was turned just enough to rid the rest of them. Perhaps not in time though, because despite their best efforts, the captain was slumped on the steps. Unresponsive with a pool of blood around them. Everyone else had gotten through with minimal injuries, the captain however had been explicitly singled out and hadn’t been so lucky. 

“Prisoner, you stay here.” the blonde guard said harshly. 

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” He said. “What am I supposed to do? Head back to my cell with the giant path now open in the wall? They’d kill me.”

“Don’t follow us”

Unable to contain his anger he lunged at the man, however his time languishing in prison had weakened him (not that he was especially formidable when it came to physical strength anyways) and the guard was able to fend him off with a bored expression. He shoved Fugo off, and they disappeared behind the door. A loud click sealing Fugo’s fate.

He stared at it for awhile before he cast an enormous fireball at the wall in frustration. It was large, unfocused, and hot. Not useful for combat, but venting it was good enough. What was the point of letting him tag along this far, if they wouldn’t actually let him leave with them? It’s not like he could turn back and just return to his cell. And even if he could, he wouldn’t. 

The impact caused him to flinch as it caused another bout of rubble to come crashing down. He blinked a few times as the dust settled and miraculously, it revealed another path. He peeked through the new opening, the path seemed to be another, more neglected section of the ruins. Well at this point he had nothing to lose, so without a second thought, he continued forward.

-

Fugo wasn’t religious, but he was starting to think that the Emperor might be right when it came to the whole “The gods want our paths to cross.” kind of thing. 

A fairly straight through cavern system (filled with skeevers, goblin, and even a zombie) somehow lead him back the their group. Much to the displeasure of the Emperor’s bodyguards.

“Dammit! It’s that prisoner again. How did he follow us?”

“He has to be working with the assassins. Kill him!”

“No.” The emperor’s voice rang out, he held a hand out to prevent his men from advancing. “He isn’t one of them. He can help us. He must help us.”

“As you wish sire.” Said one sounding disturbingly put out. “Prisoner, here’s a torch.” He thrust it into his hands. “Make yourself useful.”

Fugo rolled his eyes and tossed it aside, opting to create a small ball of light instead.

Everything was suspiciously calm as they snaked their way through the passages. The quiet made his skin prickle. It didn’t look like he was alone either, the guards were getting more and more agitated. 

When the group reached split in the path one guard held up his hand. “Hold on a second, I don’t like this. Let me investigate.”

He strode to the left, examining the gate that blocked their path. He finagled with his keys for a few minutes and then swore. “It’s locked! Prisoner, you’re a mage right? Do you know anything that could unlock this?”

“There’s something I could try, but don’t get your hopes up.” he said reluctantly. "I'm primarily an illusion mage." He made his way to the gate, and pressed his hand to the lock. He willed his magicka to flow through it and felt the warmth against his hand. Once the warmth fades, he tried to pull open the gate, but nothing. 

“Could you try melting it?” 

“Destruction magic isn’t something I work with a lot. I tried an alteration spell to unlock it, but it's too complex. The only other thing that's within my capabilities is trying to bend the bars, but the they're so thick I’m not sure that I could. Especially since it took a lot of magicka to try that trick with the lock.”

“Fuck.” he muttered. “I guess we have no choice but to go down the other way.”  
They all hesitantly made their way towards it and dread seeped into the room as they all came to the same realization. It was a dead end. 

The tell-tale flashes and sounds of magic echoed behind them, confirming their worst fears. 

“It was a trap.” One bellowed before rushing to find the casters.

The other hesitated for a second, his gaze flitting between Fugo and the emperor. “Protect Jonathan with your life.” He said. Then he too disappeared. 

It was just the two of them now. The emperor clasped Fugo’s hands in his. “Thank you for your help today. I won’t forget this.” He opened his mouth to say more, but then his eyes widened at something behind Fugo and shoved him to the ground. 

He heard the emperor draw his sword. 

By the time he was able to orient himself, the assassin laid dead in front of the emperor, but the emperor hadn’t gotten out unscathed. A large stain was spreading across his robes, and he slowly sank to the floor.

Fugo scrambled to his side. He tried to prepare a healing spell, with shaking hands. He had no reason to think it would work based on the fact he'd never successfully cast one before, but he had to try. To his horror, the spell flickered to the telltale green cast of his typically school. He desperately tried to will it back to the shining blue light of his memory that’d heal him, but the Emperor stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Save your strength, more danger lies ahead.” He winced as if it hurt to speak. Based on the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, it probably did. “I can go no further. You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings.”

His hands shook as he unclasped his necklace and handed it over to Fugo. “Take it, and give it to William Zeppeli. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.” 

Before Fugo could respond, the emperor’s eyes became unfocused and he went limp. 

He was dead.

Fugo couldn’t bring himself to do anything except gently close the emperor’s eyes.

-

He wasn’t sure how much time passed between the emperor’s death and his last guard’s return.

“Jonathan! No…” he swallowed a sob. He looked around the room and saw Fugo. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“Where’s the amulet he was wearing?” The man asked.

Fugo held it up for him to see. “He gave it to me.”

“I don’t know why he trusted you, though it seems I have little choice but to do the same. What did he say to you?” 

“To take the amulet to a man named William Zeppeli. Though I have no idea where to start.”

“I can help out there, he’s the grandmaster of the blades. Head west towards Chorral, just outside the city there’s a small monastery. If you head out the sewers, it should deposit you near the right road. When it doubt, locals are usually happy to help out.” He pulled out a map and showed Fugo about where it was and highlighted the best route. 

“Zeppeli’s a cautious man, especially in these times. If he doesn’t believe you, tell him Speedwagon showed you how to get to the Priory. Not saying it’ll be a guarantee but it can’t hurt.” 

“The emperor warned me of dangers ahead.”

“Beyond this door is the sewers, goblins, skeevers and the like. We’re not in the right area to run into the vampires. You’re a mage, nothin’ should give you too much difficulty.” 

Fugo nodded. “Alright, I’m off then.”

Speedwagon gave him a little salute, before turning back to the emperor's body with tears in his eyes. 

-

Fugo would have rather just departed straight for Chorral, but the reality was that he was an escaped convict with nothing. 

Didn’t help that he wasn’t able to waltz into the market district to replenish any supplies either. Circumstances dictated that the bandit infested elven ruins outside town was his best bet for getting resources. 

Great, more fighting, just what he needed.

-

Hours later, Fugo dragged himself out of the ruins. Bandits he was prepared for. A necromancer with a small battalion of undead, not so much. He trudged his way towards one of the dead bandit’s bedrolls. He had food, a couple of potions, clothes that while not sophisticated didn’t scream ‘I just escaped prison through the sewers.’

He’d set out in the morning, trying to travel at night after the day he’s had would be a death sentence. Personally, he thought enough of those had been issued today. 

-

Fugo forgot that to get to Chorral, one had to climb a mountain. Atrophied muscles and mountain hiking didn’t exactly mix. The one thing that kept him going as he clung the fence gasping for breath wasn’t the important quest he’d been given. No, it was the rather ornate piece of jewelry in his bag (he had tried to put in on, but it would always just slip off). Right now it would do one of two things. Get him robbed, or implicate him in the emperor’s murder. He wasn’t too keen on either of those outcomes, so he continued to trudge forward. 

The silver lining in this journey were the lush forests along the way. Even before his arrest, he hadn’t been able to explore that much. His parents had mostly kept him cooped up in the Imperial City, where he constantly trained for his entrance into the University and then later for his work with the University. They always told him he’d be able to explore when he came of age like most Bretons. 

The trees loomed over him in a comforting sort of manner, with the cheerful chirps of birds singing to each and the wind rustling through the leaves. Wildflowers dotted the landscape and the heat of summer permeated the air with their fragrant scent. Seeing all sorts of peaceful creatures wandering about, staring at him with big eyes as they ran past. It was lovely.

Though after the third wolf attack, Fugo thought it was possible he had romanticized it a little. Especially after running out of magicka at a rather inopportune time, leaving him to sprint away from a pack. Thankfully an injured fawn had caught their attention half chase.

A modest stone building peeked through the canopy, and Fugo felt himself perk up. First sign of civilization he’d seen all day. The closer he got, the more sure he was that this was the place. The stone building turned out to be a small chapel, and he could see the city walls of Chorral in the distance. 

Fugo’s entrance caught the attention of one of the monks. He reflexively tensed as the man approached. 

“Hello, welcome to Weynon Priory. Can I help you with something?” the monk said. 

“Uh, yeah is William Zeppeli here?”

The monk gave him a curious look, but didn’t pry. “Take a right at the top of the stairs, he should be working at his desk.”

“Thank you.” he said already starting to jog up the stairs.

“Talos’ blessing upon you.” he heard faintly. 

The monk’s directions took him to a small library, where there was indeed a man sitting at a desk. A strange looking man he was too. Despite the plain robes he wore, he wore a checkered top hat and had a well-groomed mustache. If he didn’t have more important things on his mind, he probably would have asked a couple pointed questions about it. 

“The Emperor and a man named Speedwagon sent me to find you.” He said unable to contain himself. 

That certainly got his attention. His head snapped up and he fixed a sharp gaze on Fugo. “Explain yourself.” 

He quickly rambled through the story of his escape, finishing with “They both instructed me to take this to you. The emperor also told me you knew where to find his last son.” He fished out the amulet and set it on his desk. 

“Indeed I do, to think that we’d need him after all this time. It must have pained Jonathan so to say that.”

“Can I ask about the son? I thought both were killed.” 

“His two known sons were, the third managed to avoid their attention at least for now.”

“Why?” Fugo wasn’t referring to anything in particular with this, he was just that confused. 

Zeppeli leaned back in his chair and started to answer whatever question he thought Fugo had asked. 

“Jonathan’s eldest sons, George and Joseph, had it drilled into them young that everything they did was for the empire. Their studies, what they did in their spare time, who they socialized with, everything. Both him, and Erina could see how this hurt them. Neither George’s frank nature nor Joseph’s free-spirited one were able to thrive among the stuffy political landscape.”

Fugo empathized with them. 

“So when they found out Erina was expecting another, they decided to keep the pregnancy a secret. To see another child of theirs suffer like this was their worst fear. When Giorno was born they sent him to a family in the south so he would have a chance at a normal life. Choose his own path, and experience life without the tight political confines his brothers had to navigate their entire lives.”

A fond look appeared on his face.

“Though Jonathan and Erina didn’t have the heart to completely abandon the boy, bless them. They had me keep an eye on him, send the family anything they needed, and give them regular updates. Until now this arrangement has more or less worked. They were able to care from a distance and give the boy the life his brothers couldn’t.”

He took a deep sigh. 

“Nowadays, Giorno is a priest of Kynareth settled in Kvatch. He’s unaware of his royal blood. For the most part he works as a healer. If you ask around the town, it should be easy to find him.” A ghost of a smile returned. “From what I know he’s a beloved member of the community.” 

Fugo nodded, he had an unfortunate feeling about where this was going. 

“Would you go and bring Giorno here? He’s our last hope.”

“Our last hope? Surely the empire would be able to manage under new leadership.”

“No, much more is at stake than the empire. ‘Close shut the jaws of Oblivion’ Jonathan said. We need to relight the dragonfires, for that we need a Joestar and the Amulet. It is what protects Tamriel from the denizens of Oblivion invading.” 

The only thing Fugo could say was “Oh.”

“Here, in this chest there are some supplies you can take for your journey. If you ask around the priory, you might be able to get some additional assistance.”

So Fugo did just that, in too much of a haze to remind Zeppeli that he hadn’t actually agreed. Turns out that was good advice because he managed to get himself a scroll of greater healing, and permission to use the Prior’s (the first monk he saw) horse. 

-

Traveling was a lot easier with a horse. If his legs could weep in joy, they surely would have done with each hill they encountered as they headed south. 

Much to his delight, the trip was boring. The roads were well guarded as it was an important trade route, so no wolves, bandits or otherwise. Sweet, boring, bliss. 

That is until he reached his destination.

Fugo knew something was wrong as he approached Kvatch. At first he thought the storm was the gods mocking him in anyway possible. However a sense of unease started to weigh on him as the storm remained stationary, and it seemed the closer he got to Kvatch the worse it got. He picked up the pace. Then people started appearing on the road. It wasn’t strange to see the occasional traveler or patrol, but seeing dozens fleeing was. As he reached the mouth of the road that lead up to Kvatch, one of them actually stopped him. 

“I don’t know what business you have here, but you have to run! The guards are keeping the roads clear for now, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re overwhelmed.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Gods’ blood, you don't know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There was a glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself! There was a huge creature... something out of a nightmare... “ They trailed off “Whatever you’re here for isn’t worth your sanity and life.” 

He thanked them for the warning, and ignored as they shouted after him as he sprinted up the hill. It wasn’t long before a small camp at the base appeared. He counted a dozen or so tents. That was a worryingly small amount for the biggest city in southern Cyrodiil. He shook his head, there wasn’t time to worry about that now. He trotted up to the first person he saw, a roughed up but otherwise alright looking Bosmer fellow. 

“Excuse me, do you know where I could find a man named Giorno?”

The man grimaced “I don’t think he made it out of the city. Though I think I saw him leading a group to the chapel. If you ask Captain Bucciarati he might know more. He’s at the gate.” 

Fugo rushed off, if he was still trapped in the city there was no telling how much time he had left. The further up the hill he got, the worse the storm got, and the sky started to take an eerie red hue. When he reached the top, he saw some men charging from a hastily assembled barricade towards something. It took another moment for what exactly to come into view. 

A jagged obsidian arc was jutting out of the ground, squarely in front of the gates to city blocking any entry. Pure magical energy swirled in the opening, creating an unpleasant orange cast on the surrounding area. The air was thick with smoke and sulfur, he couldn’t be sure how much was from the portal and how much was from the city in ruins. Most importantly though, there were creatures pouring out of it. Creatures he’d only seen in the safe classrooms of the University. They were never pleasant, their faces were perpetually snarling, and twisted. Even the higher daedra who were more humanoid, felt unexplainably wrong. Now though, without being bound to any mortal master, they were terrifying. 

Before the group of guards reached the mass of daedra heading straight towards them, Fugo summoned a mirage depicting a horde or men causing a few of the smaller ones in place and caused the others back up a few feet. 

A few of them glanced back his way, but Fugo made sure that the guards weren't affected. They only saw a flash, so for the most part they were focused on the battle in front of them. Fugo dismounted, cast an invisibility spell, and threw himself into the fray. 

He weaved through the enemies and shot ice spikes at anything in view. Freezing particularly mobile monsters in their place to give the guards an opening. Even with his limited experience in the school of destruction, he could do that much.The guards noticed the effects of his aid and seemed reinvigorated. 

“For Kvatch!” one of them bellowed and they charged once more. 

The flow from the gate stopped, and soon there weren’t any daedra remaining. The guards let their weapons droop to their sides and a few collapsed onto the hard ground. Fugo found himself wishing not for the first time, that he had either been taught healing spells or had had the patience to learn them himself. 

“I don’t know who you are, but thank you for your help.” 

He looked over to see a man with a messy black bob and a bow over slung his shoulders. 

“Are you Captain Bucciarati?” 

The man looked a little confused but nodded. 

“I’m looking for someone. A priest of Kynareth, I heard from one of the people at the camp below he’s still stuck in the city.”

A pained expression crossed his face. “Yes, Giorno managed to get himself and a handful of others to shelter. I’m not sure how long they’ll be able to stay there.”

“Is there any way into the city?”

“No. We’ve tried circling the perimeter of the walls for any points of entry but nothing. We know the gates can be closed, because they only set this one up a few hours ago after closing the Great Gate. I sent some men into the portal to see if they could figure out a way to close it, but they haven’t returned.”

“Great Gate?”

A shadow crossed over his face. “It’s what they used to bring their siege contraption through.”

Oh gods. Before Fugo could stop himself, he said “I’ll go and close the gate.”

“You can’t be serious. I appreciate your aid, but this isn’t something for civilians to get involved with.”

“You should realize by now that I’m not an ordinary townsperson.”

“Alright.” He said begrudgingly. “Good luck, if you make it back alive we’ll be waiting for you.” 

Fugo steeled himself as he approached the Gate. As he got close Fugo could see himself reflected in the plane of orange energy. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, allowing himself to be transported to Oblivion. 

The sight in front of him was terrible. The sky was the same red storm, and there were several obsidian towers looming in the distance. Just those two things left an ominous impression. He let himself look around at his new surroundings. Lava fields dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, providing light that otherwise would have been blocked by the heavy clouds. He squinted and resisted the urge to turn back as he noticed several daedra lurking in the distance. It was too much to hope for that it’d be just a quick search after all. Despite all of his other senses being overwhelmed, it was unsettlingly quiet. Only the occasional bubbling from the lava lakes kept it from being silent. 

That is until he heard someone yelling. A human voice. 

He ran towards it. 

The sight he was greeted with was a man with a strange looking crossbow shooting willy-nilly yet each shining bolt hit its target dead on. 

After the daedra all fell, the bolts gently floated back towards the man. Upon closer examination of his cuirass Fugo realized this must be one of the guards that Captain Bucciarati sent in earlier. 

The man swung around at the sound of approaching footsteps, but he relaxed when he saw Fugo was a human like him.

Without waiting for any preamble Fugo said “Go back to Kvatch, they need you there. I was sent here to close the gate.” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” The man said with a wry chuckle. “If you survive this, let me buy you a drink.” He waved goodbye as he headed back the way Fugo came. 

When he looked at the broad landscape in front of him, part of Fugo wished he had asked the guard to stay and help. Too late now. 

-

He definitely should have asked that guard to stay. Fugo was pretty sure he was only alive out of sheer luck. Well, invisibility spells and luck. Turns out daedra were oblivious as fuck. He’d take it. 

With the help of a captive of the daedra, he’d made his way towards a tower that he was informed that had something called a sigil stone which stabilized the energy allowing the gates to open. If he removed that, the gate would close. 

Now though he was exhausted and wasn’t sure how much more he had left in him. At the very top of the tower with the stone in sight, Fugo wanted nothing more than to slump down and sleep on the strangely fleshy looking floor. 

But he couldn’t.

So using the last of his magicka, he cloaked himself in energy to shield himself from the attacks of daedra. Then he bolted up towards the top of the tower. Fugo didn’t need to kill them, he just needed to escape at this point. He dodged the various weapons and spells thrown his way until he reached the top. 

He dived for the stone at the center, ignoring the fire being shot at him. Despite the appearance of the thing, when he grabbed it, it felt like ice. Once he removed it from the pillar of energy, the energy began filling the room until it completely obscured his vision. Fugo shielded his eyes from the harsh light, if this didn’t work he was dead. 

When the light died out, he slowly opened his eyes, and found himself facing the guards of Kvatch once more. 

-

Walking into the city square was a far worse sight than the planes of Oblivion could ever be. The Badlands had been desolate and hellish, but it wasn’t as devastating. Bodies littered the area, charred and mutilating with their blood staining the stone below. Collapsed and smoldering buildings all around that served as a haunting reminder of what life was like before the massacre. The centerpiece of it all was the toppled over spires of the chapel in front of them. It looked like something had ripped off the tower from the building. 

It was difficult to force himself to take a step forward, worried that with each inch he moved forward a new horror would be revealed. The only thing he could do was keep his gaze on the doors to the temple, that while scorched was still standing. 

Upon entering the temple, Fugo rushed to the first conscious person he saw. 

“Where’s the priest? Giorno? Is he here?” 

The figure slumped on the floor started to croak out a response, but someone interrupted him.

“That would be me.” A voice behind him said. 

He whipped his head around. The first thing Fugo noticed about the priest was that he was astonishingly young. Perhaps around the same age as Fugo himself. Then it was his messy blonde hair, and then the dried blood splattered across his face and robes. Based on his carefully stoic expression, he assumed it wasn’t his. 

“You look uninjured, so I’m not sure what you could possibly want with me.”

“We need to get you out of here, you’re in danger.”

“I hope you didn’t come all this way to tell me this.”

“No, I mean you especially.”

“Excuse me?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. What I mean is that the daedra are here for you.”

Giorno’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would they be here for me?’

“You’re the emperor’s son.”

“My fathers both run a magic shop in Anvil.” he said clearly starting to lose his patience. “They are the only parents I’ve known.”

Fugo couldn’t blame him, this situation would do that to anyone. Didn’t stop him from becoming slightly defensive though.

“I’m not fucking with you here. The emperor knew you were in danger, one of his closest associates named you specifically. Why else would I come here, and fight through hell to get to you? For fun? You’re needed to relight the dragonfires and stop these gates.”

“I don’t have time for this. People here need to evacuate before anything else.” Giorno shot back. 

“Other townspeople have made a camp at the base of the hill. They’ll be safe there. I closed the gate, and the square’s been cleared. This is probably the best chance you’ve got to get people out of here.”

Giorno scanned his face for any sign of deception. Apparently he didn’t find any, because without another word he left to start gathering the citizens and instructing people to help anyone who wasn’t mobile. 

That included Fugo. He approached him with a young girl who was limping. “She’s been healed enough that she’s not in any danger, but she shouldn’t go down the hill by herself. Help her down.”

Fugo nodded, and with the confirmation Giorno dashed off again.

The young girl looked at him apprehensively. She clearly didn’t want to be put in the care of a strange man, but the way she could barely put any weight on her right foot left her little choice. 

“Do you want to be carried, or do you just need me for support?” he asked. 

“Carried. It hurts.” she replied, barely audible.

“Carried it is.”

Fugo hoisted her up as gently as possible. He’d never held a child persay, but the girl didn’t complain so he hoped that meant that it was good enough. 

“Okay everyone-” Giorno called out to the chapel. “I’ve been informed that it’s safe to leave. The gate has been closed and there’s guards outside the city ready to escort us down to the camp other surviving citizens have set up. Follow me out.”  
He started forward, and the rest start shuffling behind him. As a group they slowly made their way first the barricade outside the city, and then to the camp with the help of the city guard.

The group dispersed once people started seeing loved ones among those who were in the camp. 

A woman rushed up to Fugo, with tears staining her face. The way the girl in his arms was leaning forward, he assumed it was a family member and he readily handed her off. She clutched the girl tightly and murmured comforting words through her sobs of relief. 

After awhile, the woman looked up to him. “Thank you for helping my sister.” she said voice thick with emotion. 

“Uh, yeah sure.” Fugo rubbed his neck. He hadn’t really done anything except carry her down the hill. “Make sure you thank the priest too.”

Speaking of, he needed to find him again. He’d been so focused on the girl that he hadn’t kept track of Giorno.

The camp was small though, it only took a couple of minutes to locate him. It looked like he was speaking to a few of the guard. Namely Captain Bucciarati, and the guard he’d encountered in the gate.

He didn’t want to intrude, so he found a stump at the edge of the camp and sat. Fugo put his head down in his hands. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the exhaustion was starting to creep in. To be quite frank he wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing, but yet here he was playing hero on behalf of some secretive group. 

Footsteps slowly making their way towards him caused him to look up. It was Giorno. He had knelt down to meet Fugo’s eyes.

“Are you okay? Do you need any healing?”

“Thought you said I didn’t look injured.”

“Not initially, but not all injuries are obvious at first glance. It would be negligent of me not to check in.”

“I’m alright, just tired.” he said. Giorno was staring right at him and the weight of his gaze was making Fugo antsy.  
“If you say so.” He stood up. “ I’ve said my goodbyes and finished any immediate treatment. When do you want to head out?”

“I thought you didn’t believe me.”

“I never said that. I just had more important matters on my mind.” he said calmly.

“How are you taking this so well?”

“What other choice do I have?”

“Right.” Fugo said. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or alarmed at the priest’s level of composure. Was it good for crisis? Yeah absolutely. Did it bode well for literally anything else? He wasn’t sure. “Well, I just have to retrieve the horse I brought with me.”

“I’ll wait for you by the guard’s tent.”

-

Despite the long hours of summer, they didn’t make much headway before the sun went down. Their progress was also impeded by the rough ground heading north from Kvatch. They’d decided to forgo roads, but this meant they had only gotten a few miles out before they had to stop. 

“Sorry we’re having to rough it. I don’t have the money for an inn in Skingrad, and it’s probably a good idea to keep you away from the other cities.” he said as dismounted (he’d tried to offer Giorno the horse, but he had politely declined) to tie up the horse to a nearby tree for the night. It felt wrong to have royalty sleep on threadbare bedroll, recently discovered or not. 

Giorno shrugged it off. “You’re probably right.”

Fugo allowed himself to look at the man he was sent to fetch. The dried blood was starting to flake off his face and at some point he’d pulled his long hair back away from his face. Giorno was staring at the little fire Fugo had just started. The flickering reflected in his eyes, and in that moment he looked so hollow. His curiosity started to slowly shift to concern. Upon closer examination, he realized that Giorno was shaking and had wrapped his arms around himself. Part of Fugo just wanted to dismiss it as him being cold, but it was summer and he was right next to the fire. 

After hastily packing up the scrolls, he slowly made his way over and gingerly sat beside him. Then he fished out his waterskin. 

“Here, use this to wash the blood off your face.”

Giorno silently took it without looking at him, but made no move to open the container. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Giorno took a deep breath. “No, thank you though.” He said in clipped tones. 

He frowned. It was expected though, they were strangers, after all. “Alright, let me know if you change your mind though.”

A single nod was all he gave in response and the silence cloaked over them once more. Fugo clawed through his mind trying to find something to say. He wasn’t normally one to fill silences, but it seemed wrong to leave Giorno alone with his thoughts. He didn’t care if his motives were transparent, it just needed to work.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“Why?”

“Just curious. You mentioned they run a magic shop in Anvil. I might have run into them before.”

“Have you been to Gilded Phoenix?”

“Wait, that’s the one with Polnareff and Avdol right?”

“Yeah, that’s them.” he said. The vacant expression on his face crumbled into something softer. “They’re both very distinctive aren’t they?”

“They both left quite an impression.” Fugo agreed. 

“My father, Avdol was the one who started teaching me magic. He’s more of a destruction mage, but he was able to teach me the basics of everything. Père couldn’t help much that aspect, but he was very supportive nonetheless. He’d watch Father and I practice outside and cheer us on. Though he was careful to keep a distance after I almost set his hair on fire one time.”

Fugo snorted. “The world has never known a more fearsome combination than beginner mages and destruction magic.”

“Truly, I’m pretty sure Père was the one who gently suggested I try different a different school. Father wanted to me to learn a few of his techniques, but it was not meant to be.” he said, trailing off. “I wonder if they’ve heard about Kvatch yet, if so they must be worried.”

“You can send them a letter once we get to safety.”

“I suppose you’re right. Can I ask what your parents are like?”

“Awful.” he said flatly.

Unease flashed on Giorno’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore spot.”

Fugo sighed. “I’m the one who brought up family, I should have expected you to ask in return. Don’t worry about it.” 

Giorno looked like he wanted to say more, but Fugo stifled a yawn (half real, half pretend) before he could. 

“Are you up for taking watch first?” He asked.

Giorno gave him a small smile. “Of course. Please, rest. I do have one last question though.” 

Fugo looked towards him.

“You never told me your name.”

Oops. In all the chaos, Fugo had forgotten that important detail. “Call me Fugo.”

“Alright, goodnight Fugo.”

“Night. Wake me up when you want to switch.”

Fugo made his way to the small bedroll one of the Kvatch shopkeep had given him as a thank you and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Sleep had never come easily to him, and the sheer mental and physical exhaustion of the past few days didn’t change that. There were no issues with falling asleep, but nightmares kept waking him up. At least he had new ones in the rotation he thought. 

Hours later the sun filtering through the trees woke him up. Giorno was still sitting in the exact same position as last night. Looks like distracting him didn’t work as well as he had hoped.

“You know you could have woken me up so you could sleep.” he mumbled through the haze of just having woken up. 

“You needed it, besides I doubt I could have slept anyways.” 

“Oh, well if you need to stop along the way, let me know.” 

“I will.” he said in an attempt to sound reassuring.

Fugo didn’t believe him.

-

The fact he had Giorno around made travelling through the forest loads easier. As a priest of Kynareth, animals weren’t hostile to him so by extension for now they weren’t hostile to Fugo either. Same could not be said for bandits. They had accidentally stumbled onto a camp, and weren’t able to talk themselves out of it. 

At least it served as a bonding moment for the two of them? Running for your life together was a great way to do that apparently. Another added benefit of Giorno’s priestly abilities was that he was able to navigate through the dense forest exceptionally well and even send roots to trip up their pursuers.

Even with their slowed travel, they had to be close to Weynon Priory now. They’d been travelling for almost two days. The thought of a proper warm bed and a real meal filled him with drive as the trees started to thin out, giving way to small settlements. Maybe once he reached the Priory, he could rest. 

But apparently nothing in Fugo’s life can go smoothly.

When he felt a sense of deja-vu as they trudged up the last bit of the mountain, he knew they were fucked. 

The stablehand from Weynon Priory that ran up to them confirmed this.

“The Priory’s being attacked!” he said. 

“Fuck. Where’s Zeppeli?”

“Last I knew he was in the chapel.” 

He bolted and pushed the chapel door open. Zeppeli was fending off two assassins with his sword. 

Before the two could react to his arrival, he pressed his hands against their backs and drained the strength from their bodies. This caused them to collapse under the weight of their own armor, now incapacitated Zeppeli was able to dispatch of them with ease.

“I fear they were here for the Amulet of Kings. I’m going to check immediately.” Zeppeli said once the two enemies were dead before him.

“I’ll go with you.” he said grimly. “We don’t know who is in there.”

He merely nodded before he took off. Fugo trailed behind him as he flung open the doors and headed towards the Priory. 

By the time he caught up with Zeppeli in his quarters, Zeppeli was rummaging around frantically. 

Zeppeli slammed his fist on top of the cabinet. “It’s gone!’

“You’re telling me you put the Amulet, one of the most important things in the world, inside of a fucking cabinet? With no wards or anything? No wonder they just waltzed in here! You practically set it on a platter for them!” Fugo shouted. 

“Do you take me for a fool? Of course I put wards on it. It doesn't surprise me they have skilled mages among their ranks unfortunately.” 

Fugo huffed.

“What about the heir? Is he safe?”

Oh, right. Giorno, who he’d left behind in his haste to make it to the chapel in time. 

“Giorno’s safe, he’s outside.” Zeppeli not using his name annoyed Fugo. Yeah he was the heir, but he was also someone they just practically taken from his life. He was pretty sure he was just projecting somehow, that or he’d gotten weirdly protective over him in the past few days. 

“Let us rejoin him then.” 

They met with Giorno, and the other surviving members of the Priory by the stables. 

Fugo broke the silence. “So what do we do now?” 

“We’ll go to Cloud Ruler Temple, it’s a secret sanctuary of the Blades. We should be safe from any attacks there in the meantime.”

“Safe like the Amulet was here?” Fugo snapped. 

Zeppeli shot him a glare, but didn’t acknowledge him otherwise. 

“It’s north of Bruma, we should leave immediately. Preferably in small groups so we don’t attract attention.” 

“I’ll stick with Fugo.” Giorno said to everyone’s surprise. 

Zeppeli didn’t look particularly pleased with that, but didn’t voice any dissent. “In that case I shall accompany you two. Three should be small enough to remain inconspicuous. That leaves three for the other group too so it works out.”

-

Fugo thought the mountain on the way to Chorral was bad, so the gods decided to make him suffer by making him experience the agony that was climbing the mountain on the way to Bruma. Worst part was that he couldn’t even bitch about it. He’d given his horse to Giorno and last thing he wanted was for him to feel guilty and give it up. 

He was one hundred percent taking it out on Zeppeli though. Bastard deserved it anyways. Not to mention the added benefit of making Giorno laugh in the quiet stifled way he did when he was trying not to be mean. He’d had enough hardship these past few days, if Fugo could do anything to lessen it he could.

An imposing stone structure emerged and he sucked in a breath as they got closer. He wasn’t sure how they kept this behemoth a secret base.

Giorno looked at it warily as they all dismounted. The man at the gates approached them.

He addressed Zeppeli first. “Grandmaster, is this him?”

“Yes, this is Giorno. Emperor Jonathan’s heir.” 

The guard turned to Giorno. “Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple my lord. It’s been many years since we’ve had the honor of having an emperor here.” 

Giorno looked exceptionally uncomfortable at being called Emperor but he bowed his head. “Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.” 

“Has everyone gathered in the courtyard?” Zeppeli asked

The guard went rigid as he addressed his superior. “Yes sir! We’re all ready.” 

“Good, let us continue forward then.” he gestured for Giorno to take the lead which he hesitantly did. 

Giorno eyed the Blades lined up in the courtyard cautiously. In Fugo’s opinion this felt a little like an ambush. Fugo ignored whatever he was saying until he heard Giorno’s name. 

“-rno, care to say a few words?”

That looked like the last thing he wanted. Nevertheless he made his way to the steps and began to address them.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. I know I’m an unexpected and inexperienced addition to the Joestar line you serve, but I hope to work with you in the coming days to end this crisis for the people of Tamriel.” 

The Blades began to cheer, and Giorno gave them a gracious smile. However, when he thought the coast was clear, he sought out Fugo’s gaze. When he had it, he raised a single eyebrow as a silent question. 

Fugo stifled a laugh. 

The blades wandered off, and Giorno approached Fugo. 

“Not bad for an impromptu speech.” Fugo said.

“Hardly a speech, but they seemed to take it well.” He said. “The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Giorno Joestar, it’s going to take some getting used to.”

The scary hollow look entered his eyes again. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, I know you saved my life, but everyone is suddenly looking to me for guidance. They want an emperor ready for the battlefield and to lead the Empire, but I’m just a priest. My experience lies in healing and the natural world. I have no idea what to do.” His voice had gone brittle. 

On an unknown impulse, Fugo took Giorno’s shaking hands in his.

“Do not worry what they expect of you. Expectations can break a person. Your existence is already more than they could have hoped for.”

Giorno’s rattling lessened to a slight tremor. He took that as a good sign. 

“No one wants you to shoulder this burden alone. They’re going to help you. They already have a starting place.” He stopped and added quietly “I am going to help you. I may not be able to solve this crisis, but in the moments where everything is too much I can try and do something about that.” 

Giorno gripped his hands back tightly. “Thank you.” 

Zeppeli then called for Fugo. With only Giorno in front of him, he let the irritation show without restraint. 

“I’m sure it’s something important.” Giorno said. His amusement had returned life to his expression, and Fugo found it hard to stay annoyed. 

Though, by the gods did he try as he approached Zeppeli. 

“I need you to go to Imperial City.”

“What am I, your errand boy?”

He let out a “tsk” sound. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re as involved as any of the rest of us now.”

Fugo kicked at the ground. “Whatever, why there and why me?”

“Speedwagon has been investigating the assassins that murdered the Emperor. Someone’s noticed and has been tailing him. Go give him back-up. I want you to go because I need as many of the Blades here as I can manage to protect Giorno.” 

“Fine.”

“Your best bet for finding him will be the Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Elven Gardens district. Good luck.”

-

Fugo had been nervous about returning to the Imperial City, but turns out it was completely unwarranted. Not a single guard spared him more than a glance despite being the first prisoner to break out of the Imperial prison in a century. 

It was fortunate that both of the residential districts had similar layout. Fugo had grown up in the gilded streets of Talos Plaza, not allowed into any other district unless he was strictly supervised. Then once he escaped the grip of his parents, he spent his time holed up in like, three places. That is to say, despite living in Imperial City all of his life, he hardly knew his way around it. Hell, he still hasn’t even been to the Waterfront district.

Still, he managed to stumble his way to the Boarding house. The giant sign made it hard for even him to miss. 

Inside, it was clear that this wasn’t an inn for tourists, but a watering hole for the locals of the district. It was dimly lit, and a long bar took up most of the room. There were a few tables pushed to the edges haphazardly. It was uncomfortably warm, and different smells overwhelmed him. Smoke, bread, vague meat, some sort of must, and dander all fought for dominance. The type that had regulars and if you weren’t, it attracted attention. That is to say, Fugo was attracting attention. Thankfully, it was midday so most of the attention was coming from dazed drunkards. 

He spotted Speedwagon on a stool at the bar. He went to go sit a few down from him and waved down the barkeep for some mead. 

Several minutes passed before either one of them spoke. Just the sounds of glass clinking and people coughing. 

“There’s a guy tailing me. I’m going to go to the basement, when he follows, come down.” Speedwagon said in hushed tones. 

Fugo hummed into his drink and tried not to react as Speedwagon disappeared from his sight. 

True to his word, once the door closed behind him, another man in the corner of the bar started stalking that way. 

Like clockwork Fugo waited for the exact same amount of time before sliding off his stool to go help the Blade. 

He made sure the door behind him didn’t make a sound, and carefully made his way down the steps. The longer it took for the assassin to realize he was coming the better. 

Unnecessary it seemed, because the guy was face down and out cold by the time he got down there. 

“Sorry I wasn’t able to do much.” he said, dumbfounded.

“Nonsense! Knowing that I had backup was a tremendous help.” He said heartily. “By the way, it's good to see you kid.” 

Fugo didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. “I bring news from Zeppeli. We’ve found Giorno, the heir, but we've lost the Amulet of Kings.”

Speedwagon processed that while he searched the assassin's body. “Certainly a mixed bag. However, the Amulet can be retrieved. Thank Talos you found the heir safe.” 

“Aha!” He held up an ornate looking book. “Take a look, ‘Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes Volume One.’” After flipping through it a little, his face paled. “Mara preserve us.”

“What?”

“This book speaks of Mehrunes Dagon. I can’t decipher most of this jargon, but I know a librarian at the University that researches daedric cults.”

Oh no, Fugo knew exactly who he was referring to. “Are there any other people you know of?” he asked.

“A few, but she’s the best and a long ally of the Blades. Plus she’s the closest. Go seek out Lisa Lisa, I will let her know to expect you.”

“Have her meet me outside of the University then.”

“She really doesn’t like to leave there unless it’s for research.” Speedwagon said.

“Did you ever wonder why I was in jail?” he said suddenly.

Speedwagon looked at him, confused.

“I assaulted a professor at the University, he got severely injured as a result. Obviously, I was expunged from the Guild for it. I cannot meet her within the walls of the Arcane College.” he said. 

“Okay, I’ll have her meet you in the Arboretum. Next to the Akatosh statue.”

-

Fugo knew when Lisa Lisa was near, because he felt the chill go down his spine. This was confirmed by the flash of red he saw in the corner of his eyes. 

“Long time no see kid.”

“Hello.” he said cautiously. Lisa Lisa was always an inscrutable person, even before his expulsion. 

“Got mixed up with the Blades then? Explains a lot. Anyways, why did they send you my way, surely they must know you’re plenty capable.”

“Something came up, it’s more up your alley.” He handed her the book. 

She merely glanced at it. “Ah yes, Dio’s commentaires. I’m surprised you managed to get ahold of one. The Mythic Dawn is one of the more secretive daedric cults. It’s the only shrine in Cyrodil I haven’t visited.”

Fugo frowned. “The Mythic Dawn?”

“They worship Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of Destruction.” She said offhandedly. “As far as I know, there are four volumes of this book. Books one and two are uncommon, but have been known to pop up from time to time. I can get you the second. However for the others, you should check out the speciality bookshops. Have Speedwagon send me a message when you recover them and we’ll meet again here.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “No need, just repaying old debts.” 

-

Fugo’s first stop was the First Edition in the Market district, a familiar place to him. Before the University, it was one of his favorite study spots, partially because of the kind shopkeep that would keep his hiding spots a secret from his parents. 

As soon as Reimi heard the door open she looked up and immediately broke out into a beaming smile. “Hello Pannacotta! I haven’t seen you since you got into the guild! Is Lisa Lisa’s library that much more impressive than my own collection?” she asked teasingly. 

“Hardly, in fact she referred me here precisely because she didn’t have a book and suggested you might have it.”

Reimi chuckled. “I hardly believe that, but what are you looking for?”

“Dio’s Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes. Particularly volumes three and four.”

Reimi’s face fell a little. “Ah, well I do have a copy of the third. However, it’s on hold for another customer. I’m sorry. If you want, you can ask him about it, he’s picking it up any moment now. He’s tall with bright red hair, can’t miss him.”

“Alright, thank you.” 

Fugo settled into one of his long empty perches, he’d outgrown a few of them, but he was pleased to find that he could still comfortably nestle himself in a windowsill that gave him a good vantage point to look over the entire shop from. He thumbed through the first copy while he waited, couldn’t hurt to get started early. 

Reimi’s amicable chatter told him that it was time to jump down from his hiding spot. 

He rushed after a head of curly red hair, and managed to catch up to him just as he was about to leave the square. 

“Excuse me! I need to talk to you for a second.” 

The man turned around. “Of course.” The politely blank look on his face was completely at odds with his disdainful tone. 

“I need your book.” 

“No. Is that all?” he said. 

“I can pay you for it." 

“I came all the way from Valenwood for this. If you think that I’m just going to hand it over to some stranger, you’re sorely mistaken.” he said. 

“Look, you can keep it, just give me an afternoon to copy it down.” Fugo said. He was trying not to let his temper get the best of him, but everything about this man irked him. From his snooty demeanor, to his cold purple eyes that Fugo had seen in the mirror many times before. 

“Leave me alone, or I will make you regret this..”

“How? Sending more Mythic Dawn after me? Hate to break it to you but I’ve already had my fill of them.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said stubbornly. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. It’s unbecoming of you.”

“Very well. I can see you're familiar with Dio’s work.” he said with a haughty sniff. “I know that daedric cults are not quite the thing socially, but that's just foolish prejudice and superstition. For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, daedric worship holds many rewards.”

Fugo gaped at him. There’s no way this pretentious asshole was serious. “Yeah, um they killed the Emperor. But please tell me about all the rewards the Mythic Dawn has to offer you.” 

The man’s eyes widened slightly. Oh gods, he was serious. “I see. Well here.” he placed the book in Fugo’s hands. Then his also pulled out a note, and placed it on top of the cover. 

“The fourth book can only be obtained from a member of the Mythic Dawn. I was going to meet with them tonight to retrieve it, however with the new information you’ve given me I don’t think that’d be wise.” His expression had soured. Fugo had a feeling it was because he made the man feel like an idiot rather than any actual remorse. 

Fugo ignored the man as he stomped off, instead tearing open the note. 

-  
Kakyoin,

Your interest in the writings of Lord Dio has been noted. You are taking the first steps towards true enlightenment. Persevere, and you may yet join the exalted ranks of the Chosen.

If you wish to continue further down the Path of Dawn, you will need the fourth volume of the Lord Dio’s "Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes." It can be obtained only from a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn. As your designated Sponsor, I will pass on my copy to you if I deem you worthy.

Study the first three volumes of Lord Dio’s writings. Look for the hidden meaning in his words, as best as you are able.

When you are ready, come to the Sunken Sewers under the Elven Gardens in the Imperial City. Come alone. Follow the main tunnel until you reach the room with the table and chair. Sit down. I will meet you there and give you what you desire.

Whitesnake

-

Fugo sprinted to the boardhouse to inform Speedwagon of his findings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a month and three days later an update finally arrives!  
> for those of you who read chapter 1 please note i made some changes! I made fugo an illusion mage instead a general one, and he has some very strong feelings about certain spells within the school so i changed a few lines to reflect those aspects.

“I always wondered who put that table and chair there.” Speedwagon mused after Fugo had finished telling him about the Mythic Dawn. “Anyhow, I know these parts of the sewers well. I can lead you there.” 

“What’s up with the Blades and sewers?” he said. It was mostly rhetorical, he knew why. Secret way of moving through the city mostly undetected. He just wanted to neg Speedwagon a bit. 

“Trade secrets, can’t very well give them away.” he said with an over the top wink. 

Fugo rolled his eyes. “So when should we leave?”

“Soon, a couple of folks sleep by the grate I want to use. We should get there before they start settling for the night. Hate to disturb them, besides the less people that know the better.” 

“Wait, how soon are we talking?”

“Soon as in gather what you think you’ll need and drop off what you don’t want to take with you in my room. Then we leave.” 

“Let’s just head out then, I’m a recently escaped prison convict. I don’t exactly have a lot of possessions.” 

Speedwagon clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! Follow me.”

Fugo trailed behind him as they weaved throughout the alleyways of the city. At first he tried to give him a wide berth in case he was still being tailed, but quickly gave it up as Speedwagon was much more experienced in the art of navigating through areas in a clandestine manner. It was all Fugo could do to keep up.

After several minutes they found a small garden with a couple of bedrolls scattered around. The plants looked thoroughly picked over and there was a rough fire pit. Though despite the signs of life scattered around, they were the only two around. 

Once Speedwagon was satisfied that they hadn’t been followed nor disturbed any locals, he went towards a grate obscured in the bushes. Fugo heard a few grunts and a dull thud before Speedwagon spoke, 

“Alright, after you kid.” He said, waving Fugo over. “Unless you’re able to heave the cover back on.”  
Fugo scowled, and descended into the darkness.

-

If Fugo had a septim for everytime he used the sewers to secretly move throughout the city. He’d have two septims. Which wasn’t a lot, but it was weird it had happened twice.

It was just as unpleasant as last time too. Rats, goblins, and crabs were their only company through the putrid smelling passages. He really hoped that Speedwagon did know where he was going, because every stone hallway looked the same to him. 

It seemed he did, because after an eternity Speedwagon stopped them in front of a strange marked door. He held up a finger to his mouth and then leaned his ear against the door. 

“There’s definitely people in there.” he said barely audible. “I’ll go and meet with them, you use that staircase in case I need backup. It leads to a vantage point of the meeting room.”

“No. Let me meet with them, I’ve studied the books, and talked with Lisa Lisa. I’ll be able to pass as an interested member. Plus you’ve had a tail, they could recognize you..”

Speedwagon looked pained. “Okay, I’ll be up the stairs. Cast a flash spell to let me know if you need help, I’ll burst in.” 

Once he had disappeared into the other passage, Fugo took a deep breath to steel himself. Then he opened the door.

Three figures cloaked in blood red robes waited at the table to greet him. The sight of them again sent chills down Fugo’s spine but he tried to ignore it as he moved forward towards the chair at the center of the room. 

“Noraki, I’m glad you made it here in good health.” the man across from him said as he sat down. Fugo examined him warily. The most notable thing about him was his stark white hair that had intricate designs shaved into it. The contrast between his dark skin and white hair made them stand out even more. 

“Thank you. Now, I know I’ve been using Whitesnake to address in our correspondence, but it hardly seems right to call you Mr.Whitesnake.” 

The man in front of him gave a wry chuckle. “All in due time, for now Whitesnake will have to suffice.”

Fugo forced a smile. “Ah well, can’t blame me for trying.”

“Not at all, in fact I expect such from those attempting to join our ranks. Anyways, congratulations are in order. It is truly an accomplishment to make it this far. You now walk the path of becoming one of Mehrunes Dagon’s chosen. The path of dawn is difficult but the rewards are great.” 

He didn’t take his eyes off of Whitesnake as he reached for something from his robe pockets. Whitesnake pulled out a familiar looking book and slid it across the table. 

“I have the book you seek, with it and Lord Dio’s other three books you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and strength to use the key you've been given? If so I will see you at Dagon’s shrine. I see potential in you Noraki, I hope I’m not wrong.” 

He nodded and got up. “See you there.”

The tenseness in his shoulders didn’t start to ease until he exited the room and saw Speedwagon waiting for him in a shadowy corner. 

“Good work kid, I was worried I’d have to charge in after ya.”

Fugo scoffed. “You have such faith in me.” 

“Nothing to do with faith, these men are responsible for Jonathan’s death. I’d be worried even if you were the greatest warrior in the empire.” he said seriously. 

“Oh, uh I appreciate it? So what’s the plan now?”

Speedwagon pondered on this briefly. “You should head back to Lisa Lisa and see if she can lend more help now that we have access to all four books. Then probably heading to the shrine for information.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m heading to Cloud Ruler Temple. It’s my duty to protect the Emperor and I’ve been away long enough.”  
“His name is Giorno, use it.” he said testily. “You use Emperor Jonathan’s actual name.” 

Speedwagon opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. “I will be leaving so I can protect Giorno.” he amended instead. 

“Okay, I’ll see you there once I’ve finished… whatever the fuck is happening here.” 

“Sounds good, let’s head back to the Boarding House and I’ll send word to Lisa Lisa again before I depart.” 

-

Lisa Lisa flipped through the books quickly, about halfway through she furrowed her brow and picked up the pace. After merely five minutes she slammed the fourth volume shut

“They’re smart to keep the fourth book scarce, because this code is painfully simple.” she said with a derisive snort. “First letter of every paragraph, the ones done in fancy calligraphy. Can’t miss it.”

“Really? That simple?”

“Yeah, don’t give them too much credit. They’re the most secretive, but not the most advanced.”

“Alright, thanks again for your help.” 

“If you really want to thank me, willing to part with those books?”

“I’ll hand them over right now if you just spare me the time and tell me what it says.”

“Green Emperor’s Way where the tower touches the midday sun. Need me to write it down or are you ready to fork them over?”

“I’ve got it.” he said and shoved the four books in her arms. “They’re all yours.”

“Great, also if you hurry to the Palace district you could probably find it today.” 

Fugo squinted up at the sky. “Guess that’s my cue then.”

-

Fugo had been running more in the past two weeks than at any other point in his life combined and he hated it. Suddenly throwing a mage who spent his time cooped up inside most of his life into a shit ton of battles and time sensitive situations probably wasn’t the gods’ wisest choice. Though the practice must have been paying off, because he reached the Palace district in record time. 

Now the hard part. What in the ever living hell was he looking for?

“Green Emperor’s Way where the tower touches the midday sun.” he murmured to himself trying to brainstorm. He glanced around and the spire’s long shadow caught his eye. Worth a try. He followed the edge of the shadow to the other side of the district, where it lead him to an ornate tomb made of white marble. 

A red glow started to emerge from the cracks in the tomb. Fugo scrambled back as it grew brighter. Once he was certain he wasn’t going to be obliterated by some mysterious magicka spell, he squinted and tried to make sense of the lines the light had revealed. 

There was a star and a few other squiggly lines. A quick look told him that there seemed to be more, sprawling across the entire face of the tomb. He started to slowly walk back, and the image began to reveal itself. It was a map of Cyrodil. The star must be where the shrine is. 

Fugo hastily whipped out his map and charcoal to mark the location before the light faded. 

The quickest route would be to take the roast east towards Cheydinhal, and head north when he started to approach the city. Even by horse it would take several days. Fugo resisted the urge to throw something. Why couldn’t all these secret locations be consolidated in one place for his convenience? 

He took one last look at the map as the light from within began to die out. 

-

The banners all over the place told Fugo that he was in the right place. They might be in the middle of fucking nowhere, but is there anyway they could make it more conspicous? He did not envy any poor sap who wandered in this area. 

He tentatively stepped into the open mouth of the cave.

“Dawn is breaking.” a voice said. Ah yes, this must be their cult hello. A man with the most punchable face he’d ever seen emerged from the shadows. Other than how punchable he looked, only his face tattoo and dumb earrings stood out. 

“Greet the new day.” Fugo replied, trying to keep the disdain out of his voice. 

“Welcome, brother. The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands. You may pass into the Shrine. Whitesnake will take you to the Master for your initiation into the service of Lord Dagon. Do not tarry. The time of Preparation is almost over. The time of Cleansing is near”

He bowed his head. “Thank you brother.”

The man gestured to a door that led further into the chambers of the cave. “After you.”

Slowly, step by step, he made his way inside. The walls and floors were well worn, showing clear signs of frequent activity. Fugo wondered how long this shrine had been active. If it weren’t for it being a murderous cult, it would actually be quite homy in the cave. Luxurious rugs spanned the entire hallway, and the torches staved off the natural dark and cold.

A flutter of robes caught his attention, and informed him that Whitesnake had approached. 

Fugo bowed his head again. “Whitesnake, it’s good to see you again.” 

In his peripheral, he saw the man make a motion for him to lift his head. 

“Please, it is Brother Pucci now. I’m the warden of the shrine to Lord Dagon. By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of Master Dio, you have earned a place among the chosen.” he said warmly. 

“Come, let us not lollygag. Master Dio is addressing everyone soon. You shall be one of the few to be initiated by the man himself. However, before you enter, you must cleanse yourself of worldly attachments. Remove your items and change into these robes. Everything you will need from here on out will be provided by the Master’s bounty.”

Fugo begrudgingly took the robes offered to him and slipped them on over his travel clothes. Brother Pucci continued to look at him expectantly, so he removed the travel clothes from underneath, and cast them to the side. Brother Pucci gave him a small smile and a nod before starting to make his way to a door down the hall. Fugo took that as an indication to follow him. 

He trailed close behind, as to not get lost in the maze that was the cavern system. When they reached a large ornate door, Brother Pucci paused at something, and his eyes widened. 

“Oh, he’s about to begin. Quickly now!” he said in hushed tones as he urged him into the doorway.

As Fugo entered the room, a man’s voice made Fugo’s blood run cold. He clearly knew how to speak to a group, but his tone held the telltale edge of greed that every evil man he’d ever known possessed. 

“The dragon throne is empty and we hold the Amulet of Kings! Children, praise be to your Brothers and Sisters, Great shall be their reward in heaven. Here now the words of Lord Dagon.”

Once he started to descend the stairs, the man came into sight. He was preaching at the feet of the large stone statue of Mehrunes Dagon. The man still wore the signifying blood red robes, but it was draped loosely around him. It was as if he had framed himself to replicate the countless portraits of Dibella. Long blonde hair spilled over his shoulders and his chest was mostly exposed. If Fugo wasn’t focused on not being caught, he’d be endlessly questioning this man’s weird horny energy.

“When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward to be set above all other Mortals forever.” he continued. 

He turned his gaze onto Fugo and gave him a restrained smile.

It felt as if the warm feeling of ease had washed over him, but then he was plunged into depths of terror. Fugo knew exactly who this was at this point, and even he could still be swayed. 

“As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon. Your reward. Children! The time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Heaven. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn.”

Fugo shoved his way forward, his eyes glued to the amulet glittering around his wrist. If he could just grab that-

A rumbling shook the cave as three obsidian spires rose out of the cave floor. Fugo felt dread dksl they were onto him and were going to kill him. He was going to die here. The sickeningly familiar orange light filled the room, and in a flash Dio was gone. The amulet with him.

Despair clawed at his throat. He failed. 

A woman approached him, so he swallowed it down.

“Dawn is breaking. We’re pleased to welcome you Noraki. I am Sister Mariah. However, before you’re truly our brother, you must sate Lord Dagon’s appetite for blood. Use this dagger, and use this boy’s blood to represent binding your life to Lord Dagon and his teachings.” 

She pressed a silver dagger into his hands. The metal sapped all of the warmth from them, as if to sense the deed it was instructed to do. Then she directed him to a stone tableau at the base of the statue.

Bound on the table was a malnourished looking boy. He had bruises and cuts all over, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Despite the situation he seemed to be in, a myriad of emotions swirled in the eye that peaked out from his black fringe. Anger, sadness, spite, fear, and worst of all, a resigned sort of acceptance.

There’s no way he could do this.

“Pretend to be dead.” he hissed under his breath as quietly as he could. 

The boy’s forehead scrunched up in confusion, but he didn’t have time to do much else before Fugo put his hands out and cast the illusion spell. He waited for a second with bated breath, hoping that none of the members behind him noticed. The anticipatory silence reassured him.

With one swift movement he brought the knife down onto the stone. The hum of approval behind him informed him that his spell had worked. The clang of metal on stone was masked by his magicka generating a strangled cry and the horrific squelch of cutting through flesh. The phantom blood spilled all over the altar. They thought he was dead. Even though Fugo could see the boy looking up at him in surprise underneath the illusion, he felt sick. 

“Well done.”

“Is it okay if I stay here and contemplate here for awhile?”

“Newbies, ah well. Sure go for it, just meet with me in an hour to discuss your potential assignments at the mess hall.”

Fugo prostrated himself at the foot of the altar and waited for the other members to slowly file out. By the time all of them had disappeared, his knees hurt. Only when he cast a detect life spell and the only glow came from the boy still lying on the stone tableau did he get up. 

“I’m going to cast an invisibility spell on you here in a moment. After that we need to get out of here as fast as possible, it won’t take long for them to realize what happened.” he murmured. 

He poked around looking for anything that might be useful for taking back to the temple. The book that Dio was preaching from caught his eye. It radiated power and was written in some sort of Daedric script. Based on it’s position, he could gather that it was some sort of holy book to them. After darting his eyes around the room, he hid the book within his robes and then returned towards the boy.

“Warning this is going to feel weird. Do not try to attack, pick anything up, or open anything. It will instantly dispel if you do. Just follow me.”

He hovered his hands over the boy’s body and cloaked him with magical energy until his limbs became completely invisible. 

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” the boy croaked out, sounding like he’d gotten up and was right behind Fugo. 

As the two carefully made their way back to the winding tunnels, Fugo kept listening for the soft sound of bare feet on stone behind him to make sure the boy was still following him. 

“Noraki, you look a bit lost? Are you looking for something?” Brother Pucci said.

Fugo resisted the urge to flinch. “Yeah, Sister Mariah told me to meet her in the mess hall after I was done. I was looking for it, but it seems I’ve gotten a bit turned around.”

“It happens to all of us when we first get here. You’ll have to go back into the shrine room and enter the door on the east side. That’ll lead you straight to it.” he replied kindly. A strange thing to hear from one of the upper members of a cult. 

“Thank you Brother.” 

The boy must have been getting nervous because once they were alone again he frantically whispered “Well what now?” 

“I recast your spell before we head into the chambers, I go find that woman, talk to her, and figure out an excuse to go outside so we can go.” 

He walked briskly through the system and eventually stumbled upon the woman again. She smiled at him and beckoned him to sit down next to her. He gingerly sat on the furthest edge of the bench. She seemed to mistake the reason, because she merely rolled her eyes and smirked.

“So Brother Noraki, there are many roles an agent of the Mythic Dawn can undertake based on their skills. Care to tell me about yours?”

“I’m primarily a scholar mage. I ran across one of the commentaries by Master Dio within the Arcane University. I would not be suited to battle.” 

“I see.” She mused. “Where do you wish to be placed?”

“I would be best suited for work within the Imperial City. I know the city like the back of my hand, and have many connections there. Both political and academic. I would be able to be the most impactful there.”

“That will be taken into consideration. I’ll have to consult with Brother Pucci first. For now, go get acquainted with the quarters.”

“Um can I ask one thing first?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I took my horse here, it’s hidden a little ways away, but I wouldn’t want to give the location of the shrine away because of something like that. Would it be permissible for me to go take care of it?”

She eyed him suspiciously. He felt sweat start to form on his face. 

“If you must. I don’t want to waste the time of the others looking for it. Return promptly once you’ve dealt with it.”

“Yes, Sister. Could you point the way since I’m still finding my bearings?”

She pointed the way for him and shooed him away. 

He started making his way down the narrow passage, and as soon as they were out of her sight he recast the spell for the boy. 

However, he underestimated her visibility because the moment he recast the spell he heard a clatter as she shot up out of her seat.

“Die unbeliever!” echoed through the hall.

“Shit, shit, shit. Start running!”

He felt a sharp pain in his arm, he saw a dagger imbedded just above his elbow. He went to pull it out, but it vanished before he could. A moment later, another one struck his back. He glanced back to see Mariah throwing summoned daggers at him. Another one cut across his cheek. 

“We need to get out of sight again and then we can lose them.” 

Fugo cast a couple of fireballs at the nearby crates to obscure her vision with debris and smoke. She started throwing them blindly into the dust cloud in front of her which told Fugo his plan had worked. He roughly dragged the boy along with him and ran. 

It seemed like the rest of the members were alerted because he could hear Pucci rallying the others to locate them and the “Mysterium Xarxes” which was probably the heavy ass book he had clung to his side. 

One of the daggers flew towards the boy, and Fugo dove in front of it, earning him another goddamn knife in his shoulder. This was the most he’d ever been stabbed in his life.

He gave up trying to hide him for a moment, and instead cast a powerful shield spell his way. If nothing else it meant he wouldn’t have to take any more daggers for him. 

His magicka was starting to run low if his exhaustion was any indication. 

He cast an illusion of the two of them running down the opposite hallway, and quickly turned the both of them invisible once more. 

It seemed to work because the moment Pucci and Mariah emerged from the smoke, they took off towards the apparitions.

“Let’s go.”

-

When they finally reached the light of day, he let the spell fade. He turned to the boy.

“Can you run anymore? We need to get as much distance between us and this cave as soon as possible.”

The boy grimaced. “They didn’t exactly keep me in tip-top shape.”

“Fuck, alright. We’ll just have to hope no one sees us until we get to my horse. Do you need any help, or are you okay to walk for about a mile or so?”

The boy puffed out his chest. “I should be able to do that at least.” he said indignantly. 

“Excuse me for doubting the boy who’s been held captive for gods know how long.”  
“Who are you calling a boy?” he retorted loudly, making Fguo turn to glare at him. “ I was born in 411.”

That made him at least two years older than Fugo. What. “You’re skinny as fuck at the moment, forgive me for the mistake.” 

“Not my fault.” he said petulantly, making Fugo really doubt his claims of his age. 

“Whatever, we can get to know each other when we’re far away from here.” 

-

Even though they’d both been slowed by their injuries, fifteen minutes later, the both of them hopped onto the horse and made the poor animal sprint through the forest.

-

After a day’s hard riding, they managed to make it to Bruma. 

“We need to get you to the temple immediately.” Fugo said. 

He seemed too out of it to do more than nod and inelegantly hop off the horse.

He lugged Narancia to the city square where the temple stood regally over the snow covered buildings around it.

“Talos’ blessing upon you. How can I help?” 

A man said as they walked in.

“We need a healer.”

With that, he stepped aside to let the priest get a better look at the guy. The priest carefully moved the guy's head from side to side to look for contusions or marks hidden by his hair or headband.

“Alright. Not pleasant, but well within our means to fix. It will be about fifty gold.”

“I’ll scrounge up the gold while you treat him.” Fugo said. 

"Well typically we request payment before-"

"I will get you the money. Heal him." Fugo all but snarled.

-

Invisibility was probably his most useful spell. He complained about becoming an illusion mage as a kid (he wanted to go for the more flashy destruction or mysticism schools), but now as a less than ideal member of society he had to admit it was pretty useful. 

He made his way towards the high end inn that looked above the rest of the city. Once he entered he found a dark corner to cast his spell, and entered the private quarters and began to rummage around for any loose coins or other goods. 

It was a good pick because he was able to find enough gold to pay for the healing, a night’s rest at the cheaper inn right by the chapel for both of them, and some left over.

A smug grin threatened to make its way into his face as he strut back towards the chapel, coins jingling in his pocket.

-

“I trust this is honestly sourced?” the priest said.

“As honestly as I could in the short time frame I had.” 

The priest frowned, but didn’t press it further. “His health is no longer in immediate danger, however you should get him to a priest of Kynareth or Mara to finish the more severe stuff. I was able to address most of it so you will have plenty of time to travel to either place of worship to do so. Though I recommend the shrine of Kynareth. It’s just west of Imperial City, while Mara’s chapel is further west down in Bravil.”

"Alright, thank you for your services."

"Talos' blessing upon you." The priest said they departed from the building.

The silence was heavier than the mountain air, yet the guy made the effort to lift it.

"Sooo, thanks for the help and all but what now? Am I just on my own to head south for more healing or are you heading with?"

"Neither. I know a priest of Kynareth close by, and he won't even charge these ridiculous fees. I will take you to him."

"Sounds good to me." He said cheerfully. "By the way, what's your name? I feel like it's wrong to refer to the person who saved me as the surly pale dude."

"This surly pale dude's name is Fugo." He said with an irritated sigh.

"Kind of a lame name, but not your fault. I'm Narancia."

"I regret saving you."

"No you don't. My ghost would have haunted you otherwise and that's like way worse."

-

“How long were you trapped there?” Fugo asked Narancia over dinner.

“What day is it?”

“Fredas, or the 14th of Hearthfire.”

Narancia wrinkled his nose. “They took me the 27th of Last Seed.”

“Damnit, alright that at least gives me some idea-” he abruptly stopped as a realization hit him. If he was correct, that was the same day he escaped. Fugo wouldn’t go as far as to say he didn’t believe in coincidences, but ever since getting tangled up the web that was this crisis, he treated them as warnings. Though for once, this one felt like a reassurance. 

“Hello? Earth to grumpy?”

“I told you my name. And sorry I’m not some ray of fucking sunshine after running from a death cult.” 

“Aw, it’s okay Fugo! Anyone would be after that.” the words could have passed for sincere if it wasn’t for the shit eating grin he wore. 

-

“Who is that and why did you bring him here?” Zeppeli demanded. 

“His name’s Narancia, and he was going to be sacrificed by the Mythic Dawn. I saved him. He has nowhere to go so I brought him here. He needs food. Also, he spent several weeks in captivity, so he has a lot of information about them.” 

Narancia waved at him. “Not sure how useful all of it will be though. Like the warden’s favorite treat is a sticky taffy you can only get in Anvil. He hates the imitation stuff that Skingrad sells.”

Zeppeli ignored him.“You’re responsible for whatever he does here.” he said. “Keep that in mind.”

Fugo rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

Zeppeli’s expression shifted from the mild irritation he usually held with Fugo to something more tense. “You should go see Giorno.” he paused. “He hasn’t been able to sleep or eat since you’ve been gone.” 

The snark on the tip of his tongue immediately died out. “I’ll go let him know of my findings.”

“He should be in the library in the east wing.”

“Right, Narancia do you want to come with? He’s the priest I was talking about.”

“Nah.” he seemed too busy flitting around the room curiously, planning his route throughout the complex. “Seems like you guys have stuff you gotta talk about anyways.”

Fugo carefully treaded into the library, attempting not to startle anyone but the way that Giorno’s head perked up at the sound of someone entering the room informed him that he had failed. Fugo froze in the doorway once their eyes met. Unfortunately the grandmaster had not been exaggerating. Giorno’s face was pale with heavy bags hanging under his eyes, his shoulders were slumped and restless energy rolled off of him. 

“Ah, Fugo. I told Zeppeli not to worry.” Giorno examined his stricken expression. “You do not come with good news though it seems.”

A slight misinterpretation of why, but it wasn’t exactly wrong so Fugo let it slide. It was probably better that he didn’t tell Giorno: Hey you look like shit. He shook his head. “I wasn’t able to get the Amulet from Dio. However, I did manage to snag this.” He pulled out the Mysterium Xarxes and Giorno flinched at the sight of it. 

“A book written by Mehrunes Dagon himself is dangerous just to have here. You were right to bring it here. However, you should hand let me handle it for the time being. I know some specialized wards that will be able to protect me. I will do that as soon as possible, but right now we have more pressing matters.” 

“We do?”

“You’re wounded.”

Ah yes, Fugo had forgotten about that. For most of the long trek back, he’d been keeping an eye on Narancia’s condition. All resources had gone to making sure he stayed alive. He touched the ripped fabric from where the dagger entered was surprised that when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on it. Must have reopened because of travelling. “Let’s do the wards first. My injuries can wait.” 

Giorno glared at him. “It will take me awhile to do them, even with your help. You come first.” he said firmly. 

“They aren’t life threatening.” he said. “Even if they were, I’m replaceable. That book is not. It’s why I’m all beat up after all.” 

“Sit down.” he commanded. 

“Narancia is in more desperate need of healing than I am.”

“Well I don’t see him at the moment, I will find him once I’ve addressed your injuries.” 

Fugo threw his hands up in exasperation and plopped onto the nearest chair. Normally he was a lot more stubborn, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight him too much when he’d been so concerned. 

Giorno gathered some things from around the room and settled next to him. A small porcelain jar was cupped in his hands. Fugo eyed him tentatively as he removed the lid. 

“Where are the worst ones?” he asked. His tone sounded composed and professional. This must have been his usual demeanor when working in Kvatch. 

“My arms and back.”

“Would you rather remove the robes, or have me cut the fabric to get to them? I can repair it afterwards.”

Fugo rolled up his sleeve to reveal a nasty gash. “Feel free to tear it up, I’m going to burn it up at some point anyways. I’d prefer to leave it on though while you’re working if you don’t mind.”

“It’s alright, though you should change when we’re done here.”

He started to apply the gel from the jar gently. It stung and Fugo had to bite down on the inside of his cheek from cursing. For awhile the only sounds were the gentle tearing of fabric as Giorno cut his robe to get to his various wounds. Eventually the gentle warmth and slight hum of the healing spells started. 

“Why didn’t you heal yourself?” Giorno asked him. His face was basked in the light blue light of the spell. It made his eyes even more piercing than normal.

Fugo suppressed a wince and looked away. “I can’t.” 

“I thought every mage knew at least a basic self healing spell.” 

“Nope, my tutors thought it was a waste of time.”

He didn’t see the disapproving sigh, but he certainly heard it. “That’s irresponsible of them. How could they not teach you?”

“My parents explicitly told them not to. They wanted me to focus on one school that they deemed useful.”

“All schools are useful.”

“I don’t disagree with you, but my parents just wanted to use me as a tool for their own ambition.”

That got Giorno’s attention. “What do you mean?”

Fugo held his free arm close to his body. “Charming politicians to help the family climb up the social ladder, plus the added prestige of having one of their kids be the youngest mage in the University.” 

He could practically feel the frown on the healer’s face. “I hope you've managed to find your own path despite their ambitions. I’ve at least heard the school of illusion serves people well, especially in a fight. Paralyzing and calming spells in particular seem quite handy. Do you make use of them often?”

“Absolutely not.” he said sharply.

The tone caught Giorno off guard. “Why?” 

“None of your business.” 

Giorno must have sensed that he’d overstepped (not that Fugo made it hard to tell) because he stopped his questioning and focused on his healing once more. Methodically cleaning and closing all of his injuries. He waited for the tension to diffuse before he spoke again.

“Don’t call yourself replaceable.” he said as he started to wrap bandages around the wounds. “They could get another man to do this, but what you’ve done for me cannot be so easily replicated by another.” 

"What? Practically kidnap you and dump a ton of responsibility on your shoulders?" Fugo said with a humorless snort.

"You saved me. Not just in Kvatch either. When we first arrived here, I'm not sure how I would have gotten through what I have without your words to comfort me."

Fugo couldn't think of any good response to that, but it didn't seem like he needed one.

Once Giorno was done, he gave him a small smile. "I hope that's better."

"Much, thank you."

-

The past few weeks had settled into a routine. Wake up with the sun to eat breakfast with Giorno where they either made easy small talk or let the comfortable silence of the morning accompany them (except the rare time Narancia joined them, then it became a much more lively affair). Then Giorno would head to the library to start setting up the protection spells to work on the Mysterium Xarxes and Fugo would go meet with Zeppeli for updates on the cult’s movements throughout Cyrodil. 

By the time his debriefing with Zeppeli was finished, Giorno was usually finished with setting up the wards and would work on Narancia’s treatment until Fugo was set up. 

It was mostly done now, but Narancia decided to hang around the temple. Neither one of them minded. In fact, Fugo was privately glad he was still here. 

Then, once Narancia got bored and left them, they would work for hours in the library trying to decipher the words of Mehrunes Dagon. Occasionally a Blade would check in on them, and would help fetch things from around the temple that they needed. 

After they had both acquired migraines and had thrown at least three books a piece, that signalled the end of their work for the day. They would both set up the overnight wards for the book, and then Giorno would rest while Fugo would fetch their meals. 

The routine was extremely comforting to Fugo after two weeks of absolute chaos, and pouring over books and tomes was what he was good at. 

Though it clearly couldn’t go on forever. 

Giorno was the one to break it. 

One afternoon, Giorno shot up, causing the various tools around him to clatter. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“I’ve deciphered the ritual for reaching Dio’s Heaven.” 

Fugo abandoned everything he was working to rush to examine Giorno’s findings. 

“Come slow and bring four keys. In my first arm, a storm. My second, the rush of plagued rain. The third, the tinder of Anu. The fourth, the very eyes of Padhome. Master akin Master, mother is miasma to Destroyer.” he recited, the words sent a chill down his spine.

“Padhome is another name for Padomay who is thought to be the origin of daedra.”

“So Padomay’s eyes? What could that mean?”

“I think it’s best we don’t look at it literally, based on some of the other notes I think it just means blood of a Daedric Lord. A daedric artifact should work for that then. It’s a manifestation of them on the earth.”

“That sounds like our best bet. Azura’s shrine is the closest, and she’s the easiest to summon. I can head out for her shrine tonight.”

“Daedric quests should not be undertaken lightly. Even if you don’t intend to keep the artifact.”

“I know. I’m not that naive.” he said gritting his teeth. “It’s not like Azura’s one of the worst ones though.”

“No.” Giorno agreed. “Azura arguably cares more about her worshippers than her counterparts, but she’s still a daedric prince.”

“What do you know? You’re a priest of one of the nine divines, it’s practically in the job requirement to hate daedra.” Fugo snapped

Giorno considered his words carefully and said. “I used to be a devout worshiper of Azura.”

“Oh.”

“How do you think I know so much about daedric magic?” 

“I didn’t think about it.” he admitted. “How do you go from that to a priest of Kynareth?” 

“I was drawn to her sphere of dusk and twilight. Her worshipers are warm and welcoming, so it was not hard to integrate myself among them. Azura’s wisdom is valuable, but she is cruel. I do not want to go into detail, but other worshipers and myself were sent to retrieve something for her. She looked into the future, but neglected to tell us that a majority would be brutally killed off and anyone who abandoned the task was cursed by her. Afterwards, I found comfort and penance in Kynareth’s realm.”

Fugo’s mouth opened to say something, only to realize no words would come out. Giorno took no notice as he continued. 

“I know it is selfish of me, but I don’t wish for people I care about to become entangled in Azura’s affairs.” 

Over the time they’d spent together, Fugo had learned the tells Giorno showed when he was upset. He shook, his face became like stone, and he would try to fidget in unnoticable ways. Right now he was hitting all of those boxes. 

Rigid face? Check. Twirling a loose string on the inside of his sleeve? Check. The fine tremor that ran along his body? Check.

Though Fugo didn’t take any joy in being right.

“I refuse to use spells that mess with people’s minds or bodies. Altering light or sounds themselves for illusions is fine, but I will never take away a person’s autonomy like mine was taken from me. That's why I don't use calming or paralyzing spells.” 

“Why tell me now?” Giorno said after a long pause.

“You shared a painful piece of your past, it only seems fair I divulge a bit as well.”

“You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the gesture, but this isn’t a transaction. You don’t have to pay me for being honest with you with information you’d rather keep private.”

“No, I wanted to tell you, it’s-” he faltered. “It’s just hard to get the words out sometimes.” 

“I understand.” he said quietly. 

The quiet started to agitate Fugo, so he said “So, which Prince should I go with? Any ideas?”

“There are a few should probably rule out immediately.”

“So far that list has Azura and Mehrunes Dagon.”

Giorno thought for a second. “On second thought, it might be easier to list the ones that have the least probability of being morally reprehensible or gets you further caught up in daedric plots.”

“The ones I’d recommend are Meridia, Sheogorath, Hircine, Sanguine, Malacath, or Peryite.”

Fugo stared blankly.

“Do you want me to go over each on briefly?”

“Sorry, I’m not a conjuration mage, so I don’t know a whole lot about them.”

“Meridia is the Prince of living things, Sheogorath is the Prince of Madness, Hircine is the Prince of the hunt, Sanguine is the Prince of hedonism, Malacath is the Prince of Orcs, and Peryite is the Prince of natural order.’

“What are your thoughts on them?”

“Sheogorath and Sanguine are unpredictable, but often have tasks that are more strange than anything else. A lot can go wrong, but they’re an option. Meridia, Hircine, and Malacath are most likely to have straightforward tasks, or rather as straightforward as Daedric Princes can be. This obviously doesn’t mean easy or pleasant. Finally there’s Peryite who is typically listed among the ‘evil’ Princes, but I included for the sole reason he’s the weakest of the Princes.” 

“I like the sounds of weakest, as subjective of a term as it is. Do you know more about Peryite?”

“Not much else, his domain covers pestilence and he’s responsible for maintaining order among lesser daedra.” 

“Alright, well I guess I’ll go with him. Worst case scenario, I can just do another task by another daedra. Do you have any idea where his shrine is?” 

“The blades have an impartial map around here somewhere, I think they were going to ask you to add Mehrune Dagon’s shrine at some point anyways.”

Giorno briskly made his way over to one of the massive piles that had been accumulating over the past few days. After some digging around, he carefully pulled out a ratty looking piece of parchment. He smoothed it over the nearest flat surface, and Fugo moved to join him and leaned over his shoulder as Giorno examined it.

“Okay, so it looks like Peyrite’s shrine is just outside of Anvil. If his task cannot be done for whatever reason, Malacath is also nearby.” Fugo said.

Giorno went quiet. 

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” 

“I don’t believe you. If it’s truly nothing, or you aren’t comfortable telling me that’s fine, but you can tell me what’s on your mind whether it’s big or small.” 

“I wish I could go with.” he said simply. “It would be nice to see my fathers again, and check in on those in Kvatch. Though even if I were able to, there isn’t enough time to spare.” 

“You could write a letter to them.”

“I’ve tried. The Blades won’t let me send anything, they don’t want to give away our position.” he said frustration starting to tinge his tone.. 

“I can take them for you. I have to go through the area anyway, and we don’t have to tell the Blades about any of it. Our secret.” 

Giorno gaped at him before recomposing himself with a small shake of his head.“Thank you. Truly, it means a lot to me.”

“There’s no need for that Giogio. We’re friends right?’ Fugo actually didn’t know if this was true. He was just trying to distract from the fact that his face felt weirdly flushed after the slip with his name.“Friends do stuff for each other just to be nice.” 

‘Of course, but you still have my gratitude.” Giorno said. “I’ll have to start tonight. I’m not sure how long it’ll take me, a lot has happened.” His eyes sparkled as he began to ramble about what he should include in his letter. A rare enough thing, that despite the fact this crisis demanded nearly every second of his time, Fugo allowed himself this small bit of peace. Just listening, talking, and laughing. 

Something he’d been deprived of for a long time.

-

Leaving Cloudruler Temple, made Fugo exceptionally displeased. The Blades are a secret group dedicated to protecting the Emperor, and they were sending a felon to go do their dirty work (with the sole exception of Speedwagon). 

Travel was at least uneventful, if long. Fugo liked this road, nothing ever happened on it. He ignored the hollowness he felt in his chest as he road past Kvatch though.

On the fifth day of riding he finally reached the small grove depicted on his map. It was hidden mostly by the surrounding brush, however it was eerily quiet. Normally these shrines had at least a small gaggle of worshipers dedicated to protecting it and prostrating at it’s base. Instead the sight that greeted him was a pile of bodies near the rickety wooden benches. 

Step by step he cautiously made his way over to the pile. None of them looked dead or if they were it was very recent. There were no signs of battle, the robes were intact. Free from blood or tears, the shrine wasn’t neat, but it was clear that nothing had been moved from its intended place. He knelt down and gently placed his fingers along the neck of the person at the top of the pile to feel for a pulse. 

Life was still drumming through their veins. They had all passed out for some reason. 

A lump formed in Fugo’s throat. 

With no other options, he approached the altar and placed his hands on the cool stone. 

A voice immediately rang in his head. 

"This one moves! A welcome change. So, mortal, you have found my shrine, and you have seen my followers. They are an embarrassment to me. The fools cast a spell in the hopes of summoning me to them. It was prideful and foolish, and it has had its consequences. My followers are trapped between worlds; their bodies here on this plane, their souls in Oblivion. I would have you reunite the bodies and the souls. I will transport you to the plane of Oblivion in which they are trapped. Find their souls. When all are collected, I will return you here. Return to me when you are prepared."

That explained the pile. “I have everything I need with me, my lord. I am ready to embark whenever.”

“Excellent. Well, off you go then.”

A small portal started to form between him and the altar. He noted resignedly that it looked a lot like the portals to the Badlands he’d seen in Kvatch.

But, this was no time to reminisce on that, so like he had weeks ago, he stepped into the portal.

When the daedric lord had mentioned his own realm to Oblivion, Fugo had hoped it would be different actually be his own. Was every daedra’s default Mehrune Dagon’s realm? He knew from the same sulfur filled air, desolate landscape, and lava lakes. He thought that immortal beings would have better taste than this. Maybe that’s why they were trying to invade Tamriel, Fugo wouldn’t want to live or rule over a shitty area like this either. 

A moment surveying the familiar, yet not landscape provided him with a decent amount of information. The gate deposited him in front of a large lava lake, and to either side, a gently curved into the distance. It was hard to tell, but Fugo thought he could see them converge on the other side of the lake. Probably a giant circle of land. There were none of the imposing obsidian towers he’d seen last time. Only rocks, fire, and daedra. 

One thing that stood out as extremely different though, was instead of just a hazy blanket of smoke, it all seemed to be concentrated in five different plumes, almost like flares. If he remembered right, that was the same number of worshipers at the shrine, so maybe they served as a signal. 

They appeared to be evenly spread throughout the circle of land, because of course he had to go through the entire island. 

-

Despite the monsters that dotted the land, it was a curiously straight-forward task. Find their spirit, basically tell them to fuck off back to their own realm and boom he was done. 

Nevertheless, Peyrite seemed appreciative. 

"You have returned my followers, mortal. The natural order is restored, and for this, I thank you. Perhaps they have learned the folly of attempting to touch a Daedra Prince. Take this, with my blessing. May it bring you order."

A sudden weight appeared on his arm, and he looked down to see an ornate shield adorned on him. Great, now he had to lug this thing across the entire country. He didn’t voice that to the Daedra though.

“Thank you, Lord Peryite.”

The presence inside his mind dissipated, leaving Fugo to believe that Peryite had returned to his own devices. 

Now it was time for the arguably harder task, delivering the letter to Giorno’s parents.

-

Fugo braced himself as he opened the door into the Gilded Phoenix, with Giorno’s letter in his hand. 

He was looking for the pillar of silver hair that he vaguely remembered, but a quick glance didn’t uncover it. So instead he made him go to the man at the counter, there was a good chance it was one of them anyways. His hair was done in neat knots and he wore long flowing robes. 

It took him a moment to notice Fugo, but when he did, he gave him a large warm smile that didn’t quite touch the tiredness that lay in his eyes. 

“Hello, welcome. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m here to deliver a letter to Muhummad Avdol and Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

“You can set it over on the shelf over there, we’ll get to it as soon as our previous orders are finished.” he said, already starting to dip his head to return to his task.

“This is from Giorno.”

His head shot back up.

He called for his partner excitedly in a language Fugo didn’t understand and the pillar that he’d been searching for earlier emerged. 

The pillar responded in a language he did understand. “Tu dis qu’il a une lettre de notre fils?” he said. His voice sounded strangled. 

From what little Fugo had been told about them, everything seemed flipped. The man at the counter was trying to mask his concern behind a layer of exuberance and warmth, while the other who’d just entered seemed quite somber and withdrawn. 

Fugo cringed as he handed the letter over to the two anxious parents. It was ripped and scorched from his venture into Oblivion. Though it was mainly the edges, so he hoped it was still legible. 

“Thank you for bringing this to us. Did he already compensate you?”

“Oh, um there’s no need. Just doing a favor for him. Anyways, that’s all I needed so I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He gave them a weak wave and started towards the door. Though once he placed his hand along the rough wood, one of their voices stopped him.

“Wait. It’s almost dark, and the roads around here are too dangerous to be wandering around alone at this hour. Why don’t you stay the night here?” 

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but I couldn’t intrude like that.”

“Any friend of our son’s is welcome here. Please, stay. I’m sure it would put him at ease to know you had a safe place to rest tonight.”

He wanted to resist more. He really did, but after a trek in Oblivion the promise of an actual bed was too tempting to resist. Saving the world was his good deed, he could allow himself the selfish desire for a good night’s sleep. 

Plus the probably unintended guilt trip was too much to ignore. After last time, he would try to do anything to alleviate Giorno’s worries even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“I appreciate your hospitality. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor while I’m here, please let me know.”

The pillar waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I don’t know how much Gio told you about us, but I’m Polnareff, and that hands-”

“And I’m Abdul.” his partner said, cutting him off. As well as ignoring the look of indignation coming from him. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Fugo replied. He wasn’t quite sure why he was reverting to the overly formal speech he’d been taught as a child, but it seemed better than the alternative. An effort that was ruined by the fact he had to stifle a rather large yawn

Abdul looked at him sympathetically. “There’s an available room if you go upstairs, it’ll be the second one on the right.”

He bobbed his head in acknowledgement and went straight up, and threw his belongings to the side as he collapsed onto the bed. He let the soft murmuring coming from downstairs as they read the letter lull him to sleep.

-

Sleep still fogged his head, even as the light streamed into the room the next morning. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but even in it’s unfamiliarity, it was comforting and warm.

He stretched, and stopped when he felt a weight on his legs and heard a faint growling. There was a lump of matted fur and floppy ears resting on him. Or rather it was resting on him, it was now glaring at him for daring to disturb it’s slumber. Fugo raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Is it okay if I get up?” If there was a reason he was talking to a dog like this, then he didn’t know it. 

The dog seemed to size him up, and settled back into the crook of his legs. So that was a no then.

He had to wait another fifteen minutes before the dog decided to let him go free. 

Fugo bolted up as to not give the gremlin another chance to wield its power over him and then used the shiny face of his recently acquired shield to make sure he was presentable (his hair was stuck up in weird places, but his clothes didn’t look too wrinkled and he didn’t look like a zombie so good enough) before he walked out of the room. 

Abdul and Polnareff were sitting at a small table in the room across from his. The dog was sitting on Abdul’s lap now while he patted it absentmindedly. He noticed there was a third plate along the edge, he wasn’t sure if it was force of habit for their son or an intended kind gesture for him. 

They both noticed him instantly. Polnareff gave him a wide smile, and motioned for him to come into the room. He still seemed slightly strained, but the difference between his behavior this morning and last night was night and day. 

“Sorry for intruding.” He said as he stepped into the threshold.

“Nonsense, we invited you in for the night.” Abdul said. 

Fugo slipped into the chair at the end of the table and Polnareff poured him a mug of fragrant smelling tea. 

“Think of it as payment for bringing the letter if you must.”

Fugo hummed as he dug into the eggs that were miraculously still warm on his plate. The time passed peacefully as Fugo sat in on their morning routine, but once they were done setting up stuff for the shop’s opening, they returned to the table and started talking to Fugo.

“Is it alright if I ask you how Giorno’s doing? The letter answered a lot of questions, but he’s always had this tendency to hold back as not to worry us. From what he described, it seems the two of you have grown close.” 

Fugo had to try very hard not to choke on his tea. “Well, I’ve only known him a little over two or three weeks.”

“Time has nothing to do with bonds.”

“We should know, for us it was love at first sight!”

“Maybe for you. It took me several months to learn to tolerate you.” Abdul responded evenly. However it was obvious he was exaggerating by how his cheeks darkened.

“You wound me, mon rêve.” Polnareff whined. 

Fugo, for his own sanity, overlooked this exchange. “He’s been adapting as well as anyone could expect for the circumstances. I’m not there all the time, so I’m not sure how accurate my assessment is. He has to put on a strong front a lot of the time, but he has some outlets.” 

“I’m glad he has you to confide in.” Abdul said seriously. 

“Yeah...” Fugo trailed off uncomfortably. “Me too, not sure why he decided the stranger who kidnapped him was a good choice though.”

“Saving someone’s life is a classic way to get someone to trust you and sweep them off their feet.” Polnareff said. He was then promptly elbowed by Abdul. 

Fugo was just a bit dumbfounded. That’s not at all how he’d describe it and he was fairly certain that Giorno wouldn’t either. 

Abdul leaned forward. “So what do you think of Giorno? We know plenty about his thoughts about you from the letter, but that’s only one side of the story.”

This felt like a trap. He didn’t know why, Abdul and Polnareff had been nothing but kind, but there’s no way this wasn’t a trap. The look in Abdul's eyes said it all. One wrong misstep and he'd taste the fire Giorno had fondly described as "wild and hotter than anything most mages could ever hope to conjure up."

“The circumstances in which we met weren’t ideal, but I think it’s good we found each other. We help each other through the burden of shouldering this crisis. I can’t speak on what I do for him, because I frankly don’t know, but he grounds me to reality. Reminds me that there’s a reason I’m doing all this shit.”

It wasn’t until he finished speaking that he thought ‘Oh fuck that was too mushy.’ but both parents seemed satisfied by that. Even a little smug. Whatever the trap was, he had fallen right into it.

He gulped down the remainder of his tea before he blurted out. “This has been nice, but I really should be leaving.” 

“Of course, don’t let us keep you here. Do you need any help gathering your things?”

“Nope! Nope, it’s all in the room so I should be able to leave within ten minutes.”

He retreated back to the room and scooped up all his stuff (that had somehow spread all over the room, he suspected the dog). When he went downstairs into the shop, both men were there to see him off. 

“You’re always welcome here.” Abdul told him before handing him a bag filled with supplies for his journey back. 

“It was wonderful to meet you.” Polnareff said with clap on Fugo’s back. 

“Likewise.” he replied. He was surprised to realize that he was completely genuine about it. They were strange, but he could definitely see why Giorno had so much affection for them. 

-

Zeppeli was there to greet him at the gates to Cloudruler temple. 

“Do you have the Daedric artifact?’

“Yeah, I’m fine thanks for asking.” he grumbled as he pulled out the shield. 

“I hope Giorno knows what he’s going with that evil book. I fear for what it could do to him if he’s not careful. Anyways, we need you to go Bruma. A gate has opened there, and there have been reports of spies. Assist the guard with both matters.” 

"Immediately?"

"Yes."

He groaned “Like I have any choice in the matter at this point.”

-

At least the gate this time around didn’t have the backdrop of a city in ruin.

“Thanks for coming down.” the captain said briskly. “Once we know how to close the gates, we will be able to handle it on our own.”

Fugo tried to not stare at her long colorful braids. “Of course.”

“Abbacchio and I will go into the gate with you, while the rest of men will defend against any monsters that emerge from the gate.”

“Sounds good to me.” he said.  
She left to go address her men.

He heard her talking, but made no effort to listen. Chances are none of it applied to him anyway.

“Yes Captain Erinni!” they called out with salutes when she concluded. 

A guard with long white hair stepped forward to join her.

Together, the three of them stepped into the gate.

Each time he entered this plain it got worse. The smell, sights, the silence, everything. He glanced at the two guards who were taking it all in. Their faces were stoic masks, but he could see the shock reflected in their eyes. Whatever they were imagining the Badlands were like, they had apparently been wrong. 

They recovered quickly and returned to their professional mannerisms and looked to him. The concept of them relying on him for guidance was scarier than anything. If these two didn’t make it out of here alive, that was on him. 

“We’re heading for those buildings in the distance.” he pointed out the structures to them and they followed his finger. “We don’t fight unless necessary. There’s an endless number of them and we’ll just waste our energy. We just need to get to the sigil stone at the top of one of those buildings. That’ll close the gate.”

They nodded and drew their weapons. 

And so another descent into hell begun. 

-

“Thank you.” Sheila rasped out as they stumbled out of the former gate. 

Turns out having warriors along with him made the general trek a lot easier. Though they didn’t get out unscathed. Fugo had several burns, Sheila had gotten a nasty gash along her leg, and Abbacchio was sporting a cut above his right ear and currently mourning the loss of his long hair. 

“If anything I should be thanking you two, pretty sure you saved my ass multiple times back there.” 

“Even so, you’ve provided us the tools necessary to protect the people here.”

“I suppose.” He said, wincing as the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his burns. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“You’ve certainly earned the right to the answers.” She said with a shrug. 

“Have there been any new people in town recently or suspicious activity?”

She frowned as she thought it over. “Hol Horse, big Nord dude, has been acting pretty jumpy recently. If you run into him, it's probably worth asking him. Some farms have reported strange lights coming from the Runestone north-west of town. Other than that the only thing that comes to mind is that Enya and her son returned from a trip recently.” 

“His name is Hol Horse?” he asked incredulously. 

“That’s really what you took from that.” she said. 

“You have to admit it’s fucking ridiclous.”

“Maybe so.” she said reluctantly. 

-

Fugo waited until night to make his way to the Runestone. He didn’t want to waste his magicka, so going under the cover of the dark seemed like the best choice. There was a good chance that he’d encounter the spies then. 

The soft blue glow coming from the runes were visible, marking a beacon for him to move forward to.

As he moved closer he could make out two figures that were weaving between Runestone in some sort of ritual.

He cast an invisibility spell, but the flash of light gave him away.

The two turned towards him, and began advancing. 

The man reached him first. Seemed like he was a weapons guy based on the big ass sword he swung toward Fugo’s head. 

He leapt back, but an ice spike from the woman hit his arm. 

The momentary stagger back allowed the man an opening to lunge for Fugo’s leg. 

He swore loudly as it pierced him. 

While the man slowly removed his sword, the woman began shooting firebolts his way. When none of them made contact with him, he thought by some miracle she’d missed.

However, a quick look behind him informed Fugo that he wasn’t the target. The fire behind him blocked any bath of retreat. 

The two began to stalk forward. About ready to close the already short distance between them. 

They were overwhelming him. 

And before he could stop himself he brought up his arms and willed a bright flash of vibrant green light to radiate from his hands.

Everything around him stopped. 

They were paralyzed.

He felt bile rise up in his throat as soon as he realized what happened. It only got worse when he looked down at their now frozen figures. The look in their eyes was all too familiar. The old woman’s eyes were glassy with furious tears that couldn’t fall and the frenzied way the man darted his eyes around for an escape path he could bolt to once he was free. Their faces stuck at the exact moment the spell had hit. It was everything he remembered and this time it was his fault.

He bit down on his tongue hard enough to taste the tang of his blood. He took a few deep breaths, and then with shaking hands pulled a rope out of his bag to tie them up. Each time one of them put their gaze on him he felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. 

The knots took much longer than they should have, but they were solid and that’s what mattered.

The next patrol that came by Fugo waved them over frantically to where he had the two tied up. He desperately hoped that they were in the loop about the spy situation, because he didn’t want to explain this while they were right there.

They clopped over leisurely on their horse. “Hello citizen, what can I assist you with?”

“These two need to be taken to the dungeons.” 

The guard leaned their head over to get a better look at them. Their eyes widened in recognition. “It was them two then? Gods, you really can’t trust anyone these days.” 

Fugo rolled his eyes. “Can you help me escort them?”

“Of course.” 

They worked to tie the two spies to the horse, and better restrain their hands for when the spell wore off. 

Proved to be a good idea when the second the spell dissipated the two began to trash about wailing curses.

-

“They’re secured in the dungeons, and we’ve got skilled warriors and mages watching them. They aren’t going anywhere.” Sheila told him. “When we searched them, we found the keys to their home. If you wish to search it, we will relinquish them to you and allow you to investigate the premises.” 

“Pretty sure it’s what the Blades want.” he said. 

Fugo held his hand out.

-

After asking several guards, stealing from several guards (not Sheila or Abbacchio though), and bribing a few beggars, Fugo had the location he needed. Their house was nestled in the district right by the church, instead of the sturdy stone structures that occupied the space by the keep, the homes here resembled raggedy log cabins. Their house was inconspicuous. Nothing about the outside screamed ‘murderous cultists live in here’

The locals watched him curiously as he fumbled with the lock and entered the home. Much to his disappointment nothing stood out, which meant he actually had to investigate. 

Secret passages seemed to be a theme, so he poked around looking for strange indents along the walls. However he was interrupted by the hollow sound that came from the ground. He kicked aside the rug, and it revealed a trap door leading to the basement. Probably what the second key was for. He knelt down and turned the key until it made the soft click noise he was looking for. 

After descending down the woven ladder, he observed the room. They had the Mythic Dawn books filed away neatly on a shelf right next to a stack of robes. 

Pretty barren in all honesty. 

However a large man lurked in the corner of the room, in an attempt not to be noticed. Which was ridiculous because he wore the largest, strangest looking hat he’d ever seen. 

Fugo didn’t want to waste any time, so he immediately strode over to the huge man and put a knife in his face.

“Whoa, whoa! I don’t want to fight.” he barked out in a panic. 

“Then stop trying to hide.”

“Clearly that doesn’t matter since you found me anyway.”

“I’m not moving the knife.” 

The man’s eyes remained on the knife as he began to babble. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you here. I was only in this for the money, well the money and Dio. Not because I believe in whatever it is he’s doing, but have you seen the man? Blessed by Lady Dibella herself. Anywho I didn’t realize that they were trying to end the world until I talked to Geil, on Gods. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“What’s the catch?” Fugo said keeping the dagger at his throat. 

“You let me live? I don’t know man.” 

Fugo hadn't really intended on killing him, but he wasn’t about to tell Hol Horse that. “If you want to get out of here with your throat intact, you’ll tell me if there’s any orders, letters, or any type of correspondence they’ve had with the Mythic Dawn. Then you’re going with me to the city guards.”

“Whatever you say sir. Look I know where the hag kept her orders, look in the third volume of those books, she usually keeps them tucked in there.” 

Fugo slowly withdrew his knife and made his way over to the bookcase and thumbed through the copy until a piece of paper fluttered out. 

-

Enya-

Master Dio was pleased to hear of your activities outside of Chorrol. The more gates that we open, the nearer we are to the glorious Cleansing.

Master Dio has chosen you and Hol Horse for a most crucial mission, a sign of your advancement through the ranks of the Chosen. We have learned that the Joestar heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple, the lair of the accursed Blades. Master Dio has made its destruction the top priority of the Order, and Lord Dagon has committed whatever resources are required.

Pending your report on the Joestar’s activities at Cloud Ruler Temple, and your assessment of Temple defenses and possible routes of escape, we plan to open a Great Gate in the open ground before Bruma as soon as possible.

Remember: the first three Lesser Gates represent only the preliminary stages of Great Gate Deployment. Do not in any way compromise your cover in defense of these gates. New ones can be quickly and easily reopened. And once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured. Cloud Ruler Temple cannot stand long after that, and the Joesstar will be caught like a rat in a trap.

We would welcome any further details you can offer concerning the Brenton man who rescued Giorno from Kvatch, but again, we caution you... do not risk a confrontation. This individual is not to be trifled with.

The Dawn is breaking,

Enrico Pucci.

-

After escorting the man to the capable hands of Sheila Erinni (he had tried to escape four separate times only for each attempt to wither when Fugo created an illusion that made it seem like he was an expert at throwing knives) he left to relay this new information.

-

Fugo really wished Zeppeli would send someone else out to greet him. However, for once it wasn’t harsh words or orders that came out of his mouth. Instead he merely said “The gods didn’t choose you as their agent idly.” before leading him into the temple.

Once word of his return spread throughout the building, all the Blades poured into the room to listen intently to his report. The room was quiet enough that despite that Fugo’s voice was barely above a whisper they hung onto every word. When describing the fight at the rune, he cut off suddenly. He couldn’t bring it up without the shame creeping up, they were all staring at him so he hastily glossed over it and continued to describe what he learned from Hol Horse. 

Giorno noticed something was wrong almost immediately. The moment he was done going over the information with the blades, Giorno pulled him aside.

“Tell me what’s going on with you.” Giorno said.

The room was now empty.

No use in denying that something was wrong. “It doesn’t matter what’s going on with me. There’s nothing you or I can do about it and it would just be a distraction for you.”

“You act as if it isn’t one already. I can’t stand to see you suffer like this. I worry about you more when you close in on yourself.” 

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Something, anything. You can’t keep bearing this alone Pannacotta.”

“I sure as hell can and will.”

Giorno scowled. “You can’t, why do you think I’m bringing this up? It’s because I can see it.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” he spat out. “That I’m forced to live my nightmares both in my dreams and my waking hours? That the ghosts of those who die because of the gates follow me everywhere I go? You have your own shit to deal with. Much of it is similar to mine.” 

“Panna-”

“Stop calling me that.” 

“I’m sorry. But that’s exactly why you should tell me. I won’t be able to empathize with everything, but more than anyone I know what you’re going through. Not just because we’re stuck in the same situation, but because, like you said, we’re friends.” 

Fugo felt panic seize up in his chest. “You don’t owe me anything. What’s even in this for you?”

Giorno looked perplexed. “I care about you. So I guess my peace of mind, but even that’s not completely true because no matter what I’ll always be concerned for you and your happiness.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you put up with this, with me? There has to be a reason.” 

“I just told you. There really isn’t anything more to it. No one told me to befriend you, no one told me to pray for you, there’s no material incentive either. Please, you do so much for me. Let me return the gesture. If all I do is take from you, this is not a friendship.”

Fugo, suddenly felt completely drained, so he slumped onto the nearest table bench and put his head down. 

Giorno didn’t say anything more, but he felt the warmth radiating off of him as he sat next to Fugo. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, not lifting his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I might want to know what’s wrong, but ultimately it is up to you what you share with me.”

Fugo kept quiet. He half expected Giorno to leave, but he remained at his side. It stretched on for an indistinguishable amount of time.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” He asked. 

Fugo actually looked up at that, a little bewildered. “Where did that come from?”

Giorno looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s how my parents would comfort me when I was young.” 

“Yeah, that’d be okay I guess.”

He felt Giorno’s arms loosely snake around him and pull him in. 

Between how they were sitting, their robes, and just both of their reserved natures, it was a little awkward, but he couldn’t deny it was nice. 

This was probably the only form of affection he’s had in years. 

“I used a paralyzing spell.”

Giorno merely hummed his acknowledgement, clearly trying to make sure that Fugo didn’t feel pressured to continue. 

“I swore I would never use it again, but the stress of having to go through those fucking gates again and again, while also having to look over my shoulder constantly wore me down and I broke. I could see the fear in their eyes and-” 

He stopped briefly. His eyes stung and his throat felt tight.

“-and it was the same fear I remember feeling.” he choked out. 

“Can I offer my perspective?”

“Sure.”

“I do not think it was the same fear.”

Fugo immediately stiffened and then roughly pushed him away. “You don’t know a fucking thing about what it feels like to have total loss of control. You’re about to be emperor, you’ll never know what that’s like. I did that to them, how could you say that it’s not the same fear?” 

“My apologies, I could have worded that better. A better way to put it is that while they might have been fearful of what could happen, they attacked you and you acted in self defense. To equivocate that with what that person did to you seems unfair.”

The anger died as suddenly as it had flared up. Fugo slumped back over silently. 

“You’re right that I’ll never understand. But please don’t say you’ve done something atrocious when you were just trying to protect yourself.”

“That wasn’t fair of me to say.”

“It wasn’t.” Giorno agreed. “But I know what you mean. I’m a healer. I am used to it.” 

Giorno gently placed a hand on his back. “Why don’t you go get some rest? This is taking its toll.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“Would it help if I kept you company? I can sit on the floor and read outloud.”

“Are you proposing that you read me a story to help me fall asleep?” He asked a bit sarcastically. 

“Yes.”

Fugo hesitated at how earnest he sounded. “I guess it wouldn't hurt.”

-

Sleep came easily to him that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to those of you who helped me with this chapter whether it was talks about characterization or reading over my stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> im skipping most of the odd days because this got out of hand really fast. there should be one or more two chapters after this! also thank you so much to everyone who helped me out with this.


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